The Dying of the Light
by criminally charmed
Summary: Alan is getting ready to graduate Wharton's...and he has nothing new to worry about, right? Not likely. An old enemy shows up, ready to shatter his future. Will he survive it? Your only hint is the T rating is for any violence or language that could happen to crop up.
1. Chapter 1

**The Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - I do not own the Thunderbirds. I also do not own the poem that starts this chapter, which inspired the title to this story. It's not a total downer story, I promise. Do you know in tarot cards, death doesn't mean dying, but change? Maybe the death in this story is the changes that will be occuring. **_

_**Nah - I'll probably end up killing someone.**_

_**This is being posted today because it would have been my Dad's birthday. Happy birthday, Daddy - still keeping my promise.**_

* * *

_Do not go gentle into that good night,_  
_Old age should burn and rave at close of day;_  
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_Though wise men at their end know dark is right,_  
_Because their words had forked no lightning they_  
_Do not go gentle into that good night._

_Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_  
_Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,_  
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,_  
_And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,_  
_Do not go gentle into that good night._

_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight_  
_Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, _  
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray._  
_Do not go gentle into that good night._  
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_~Welsh Poet Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)_

* * *

Alan Tracy was happy, he was excited…life was good.

In less than a month, Alan would be graduating from Wharton Academy for Boys. The summer would be spent on his island home, the first summer he would have as a full-fledged Thunderbird. Dad had always had him as a probie until he turned eighteen.

And today he was eighteen.

"Happy birthday, Alan!"

Alan smiled over at one of his best friends, Tomo Wattamee had organized everything and the groups of almost thirty young men – either current or former Wharton's students – were gathered in the small movie theater that had been leased for the afternoon.

"H-how d-did you g-get your d-d-d father to agree to this?" Fermat asked as he sat down next to Alan.

"I pointed out to Dad that last year had been kinda a bust, and with two small children, getting the whole family up here may not work that well," Alan said reasonably, smiling at the waitress who was serving the grilled shrimp salad he had ordered. "And with most of the track team, or my other friends, graduating, this could be our last chance to hang out. So this is perfect – a private showing of a movie I've been dying to see and some pretty good food, everyone gets an afternoon off campus, and I'll get the family party when we get home after graduation."

"Shouldn't that be a graduation party?" Mario Gomez asked as he sat next to Alan.

"It will be," Alan sighed, "a graduation party for me and Fermat, and an eighteenth birthday party for me and Tin-Tin. Oh, and Jason's first birthday, re-done. Kate is at her parents' this weekend, since we are having the big blow-out in June."

"Well, here is to the future," Tomo said with a grin, raising his glass in a toast. "To Alan at Harvard, Fermat at Cal-Sci and Mario at Cambridge – and if you thought New England was cold and damp, Gomez, wait until you hit England."

The teens all chuckled at that.

"Excuse me," the theater manager interrupted. "We'll start the movie in a few minutes, so everyone can eat while watching the first reel. We'll serve the cake during the intermission, but I thought you would want to, um, or do you think…"

"He'll have the candles and we are singing," Tomo said firmly.

As the manager moved out of the room, Alan groaned. "I'm eighteen, Tommy! Come on."

"Big brother privilege," Tomo said firmly.

"Don't I get to claim that?" a new voice said.

Alan spun around, grinning as he was pulled into a firm hug. "Gordo! What are you doing here?"

"Just didn't feel right to have no family here with you on such a momentous day," Gordon said with a tight smile. Pulling up a chair, he smiled at the waitress who brought a matching shrimp salad to Alan's.

"I told your father I had it under control," Tomo said softly.

"Yeah," Gordon shrugged. "But I'm just being a good big brother to my one and only little brother. Besides, the elders all have their hands full - Scott with Jason, John with Elizabeth and Virgil with Chuck."

"Chuck?" Alan asked, warily eyeing the manager who was personally rolling the cake into the room. His friends were all leaving their tables, anxious for the chance to embarrass Alan one last time.

"Upchuck," Gordon grinned as he sipped at his soda. "Act surprised when Sarah Jane tells you."

Alan grinned. "Sarah's pregnant? That's great! Just so long as I don't have to deliver this one!"

Everyone laughed before the cake was rolled up next to Alan. He knew Kate had ordered it from Carlo's Bakery and it was a replica of the track at Wharton's – complete with Alan crossing the finish line. But instead of "finish" being on the breaking tape, the decorator had written "eighteen at last!".

Tomo nudged Mario and all of the Wharton boys stood to sing.

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday, dear Alan…

Happy Birthday to you!

We hope you get some tonight!

We hope you get some tonight!

We hope you get some birthday cake tonight!

We hope you get some tonight!

Even Gordon laughed as Alan went red before the newly minted eighteen year old stood up and blew out the candles.

"Did you make a wish?" Gordon teased.

"I didn't have to," Alan said softly as they rolled the cake away to be cut up and served during the intermission of the three hour plus sci-fi thriller. "I already have everything I ever wanted."

On that note, the lights dimmed and the group settled down to enjoy the day.

* * *

Katherine Eppes Tracy – better known to most as Kate – was relaxed, happy and undoubtedly amused...life was as close to perfect as it got.

"Which goofy little boy has you smiling?" her cousin, Edward, asked as he handed her a glass of ginger ale.

Kate giggled. "Dad does look pretty silly, doesn't he?"

"Uncle Don has chucked all dignity – but then so has your husband," Edward chuckled at the sight of Don Eppes and Scott Tracy both sitting on the grass, the newly one-year-old Jason Tracy emitting contagious baby giggles at the silly faces the men were making.

"Don has been waiting a long time to spoil his grandson," Charlie Eppes sternly admonished his son and niece. "We haven't seen you since the holidays."

"Dad understands," Kate protested. "Work keeps me busy, and I send a lot of pictures."

"And it's not like Uncle Don isn't busy at his job," Edward defended his cousin – just as he had since they were children.

"Your father is retiring," Robin Eppes said as she slid in next to her daughter.

"Seriously?" Kate asked in surprise.

"Shouldn't that be "it's about time"?" Charlie questioned.

"What is about time?" Scott asked as he carried his son over to the family.

"I think news of my pending retirement has leaked out – at least within the family," Don said as he snagged his grandson out of his son-in-law's arms.

Bouncing his grandson, Don shot a look at his wife who only smiled. "Both of the boys are engaged, I'm hoping for a few more of these down the road. Katie may live pretty far away, but I want to be able to be the kinda grandfather Dad was – there for my babies."

"Does this mean you are going to learn to make Grandpa's peanut butter chocolate cookies?" Edward asked with a grin.

"Katie knows how," Don shrugged before kissing Jason's head.

"Honey, you've been holding out on us," Scott teased.

"Like Onaha lets me near the kitchen that often," Kate defended herself.

"We have a kitchen in our house, too," Scott laughed.

"Yeah, like I would let you near there," Kate grumbled. "When you tried to make me some tea when I was pregnant with Jason, you almost burnt down the place."

The family just laughed before they began to exchange culinary disaster stories. Kate's cousins and siblings, along with Aunt Amita and some other "connections" drifted over, laughter being the universal draw.

Scott lifted Jason up so that the baby's ear was next to his mouth. "And you thought your dad's family was nuts."

* * *

Kyle Westcott looked around the small, dismal room that he now called home. It was a far cry from the suite of rooms he had had in his father's home in an upscale Chicago suburb.

A year to the day that his life had gone to Hell in a hand basket.

He had been arrested by the Massachusetts State Police, a charge of drug trafficking pinned onto him. Most of the charges had eventually been dropped when Kyle had produced his records on his computer. But he had still ended up doing six months in prison, most of that in solitary.

Convicts didn't like stool pigeons. The savage beating he had taken the day after being incarcerated had shown him that.

And now, Kyle was out, forced to report to a parole officer for the next four and a half years.

Any violations, and he would be back in prison, and the full sentence of five years would be enforced. The Department of Corrections had arranged for him to live in this half-way house and had arranged a job for him with a food service company. It was a far cry from the future he had lined up, having made good use of his father's connections to get himself into Berkley. Now, he was considered a high school dropout, having been arrested weeks before graduating from Wharton's.

A knock on the door roused Kyle from his morose thoughts. He opened the door to see a huge black man giving him a hard look.

"Westcott?" When Kyle nodded, the man's face relaxed somewhat. "I know you were a first timer, and things weren't easy. But you got a chance to start fresh. My name is George. I run this house. Everyone here is non-violent offenders. We have an eighty percent Christmas card rate."

George chuckled at Kyle's confused look. "That means after they leave here, I never hear from them again except for Christmas cards. You start work with TJS Food Services tomorrow. I think they are sending you to the café at either the Museum of Science or the Museum of Fine Arts. You have a preference."

"Science," Kyle said faintly, knowing he was less likely to run into someone from his old set there.

"I'll see what I can do," George smiled. "Oh, and the police said these things could be returned to you. If you want to sit for GED's, let me know. I know you were close to graduating, and a high school equivalency could help in the job market. "

George handed Kyle the box, reminding the nineteen year old of the rules he had been given prior to his arrival, and telling him that dinner was at five. "You don't have any duties this week, but check the bulletin board Wednesday; I'll have the chore schedule up for next week by then. Swapping is ok, but make sure whoever you switch with is approved by either me or Marty – he's the senior resident."

Closing the door, Kyle opened the box, digging through and finding what was there. Most of his belongings had been shipped back to his parents; God only knew what they had done with them. There was his older computer, the one he had kept his games and school work on. The police must still have the good one, where his list of contacts had been. Gone were his expensive electronics, his e-reader, his designer clothes. Just some casual clothes, his school books, and –

What the hell? A copy of the Wharton Ledger, the school paper, mainly delivered to most students via their in-boxes…It must have been used to line the cardboard box. Pulling it out, he glared at the picture on the front page.

"Wharton's brings home Fall Track Championship," Kyle read out loud. "Alan Tracy was…" Kyle bit off his words as he glared at the youngest Tracy son, surrounded by his teammates in one picture, while breaking a finish line tape in another. That picture said that Alan had won that event, beating a high school boy's record, previously held by his brother John. The school must have sealed up the box when he was actually sent to prison at the beginning of November.

Looking at the paper again, he saw the web site for the electronic edition. Turning on his computer, Kyle tried his old log-on and password, smirking when he realized the school had never locked him out.

As he read past editions of the paper, Kyle's blood began to boil. He lost count of the number of times Alan Tracy was referenced in the paper…

"Tracy, Tracy, Tracy!" Kyle snarled. "I don't know how, I don't know when, but your perfect life is going down. Do you hear me? Down, down, down!"

* * *

**A/N - Yeah, Kyle is back. Jerk.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - Not mine. If I were writing this for money, would I still be in freakin' sub-zero New England?**_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Alan was curled up underneath his favorite tree in the quad in front of the dormitories, his e-reader in his lap. The boy was trying to lose himself in the words of the newest story by one of his fave sci-fi authors but…

He didn't want to be annoyed at Gordon, but he was. Alan felt wrong about it – Gordon had come all this way to celebrate his brother's birthday. But Alan had been looking forward to an afternoon with his friends. And Gordon had seemed almost hostile to Tomo. Alan didn't get to see Tomo as much as he liked and even when his family hadn't been there for the youngest Tracy, Tomo had been.

Alan thought back to the conversation he had had with his father the night before.

"Happy birthday, son," Jeff smiled warmly at his youngest son.

"Thanks, Dad," Alan had grinned.

"Did you and your friends have a good time at the movies?"

"Yep," Alan nodded. "It was great. A couple of the guys are talking about maybe doing it again just before graduation. You know – a kind of send-off for the Seniors."

"Let me know if you decide to," Jeff warned. "I'll need to give permission."

"Dad, I'm eighteen now," Alan argued. "Can't I give myself permission?"

Jeff shook his head. "I'd need to sign a bunch of forms with Wharton's to do that and it doesn't seem worth the bother when you graduate in three weeks."

Alan sighed. College couldn't come soon enough.

"Were you surprised at Gordon showing up?" Jeff asked.

"Shocked was more like it," Alan said. "Not that I don't love my brothers, but what was up with that? And he was really giving Tommy a hard time."

Jeff shrugged. "I think it bothers Gordon that he feels as if he has lost a lot of time with you. You are his only little brother, you know. And with you staying in New England for college, I think he is just trying to establish himself as your big brother."

"Dad, Gordo has always been my big brother. But Tomo was there for me when all my other brothers could do was either ignore me or harass me. I feel the same way about Tomo as I do about any of my big brothers. Gordon doesn't have to pull his dog in a manger routine. I don't want to hurt his feelings, but if he acts like this at my graduation, I would rather one of the other brothers came."

Frowning, Jeff considered his youngest son's words. Each Wharton's graduate had been allotted four tickets. Since Fermat had only invited his father, he had given Alan the other three tickets, to bring the Kyranos, Fermat declaring he wanted them there as well. Alan's tickets had gone to Jeff, Gordon and the three married couples had drawn straws, with Sarah and Virgil getting to attend. Since Kate was now due to have her turn on Thunderbird Five, Virgil was preparing to take as much film as he could – if only to spare himself his sister-in-law's wrath.

"I'll talk to Gordon," Jeff said before thinking. "But Tomo won't be there, will he? You used up all your tickets."

"Alumni, Dad, remember? Tomo claimed two alumni seats. He's bringing his girlfriend." Alan's nose wrinkled for a minute. He was still fairly sure that Tomo's girlfriend didn't like him.

"OK," Jeff sighed. "I'll have a word with your brother."

Anything else the two may have said ended when Sarah entered the room. "Hi Baby," Sarah smiled. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Sarah," Alan smiled.

"Still working on a present," the redhead teased. "So what can we get the latest adult in the family for birthday and/or graduation?"

"Um, how about a new nephew?"

Sarah's smile turned to a frown. "Gordon spilled the beans, didn't he? I'm going to kill him."

Alan laughed. "Just so you know – I plan on being thousands of miles away when you give birth, got it?"

Sarah chuckled. "You mean I can't come visit just before my due date?"

His laughter ending abruptly. "Hell. NO. I would rather be run down, poisoned, blown up, or shot than have that happen again."

"Alan, you've never been shot," Jeff interrupted.

"Wait," Alan shrugged. "With my luck, it will happen eventually."

Seeing that line of thinking bothered Jeff and Sarah, Alan changed the subject before signing off.

Thinking of the night before, Alan picked up the small charm Tomo had given him for his birthday. It was a Japanese symbol for little brother, Tomo being incredibly pleased when Alan had identified it without a translation. Alan had added it to the leather necklace he always wore, a small charm that Tin-Tin had given him with their names inscribed in Malaysian on the back next to it.

"So you will always have your big brother with you," Tomo had smiled at him.

Gordon's glare had only increased at that but luckily, the cake was being delivered at that point and Alan put off opening any more gifts until after the movie. He had liked the new i-pod that Gordon had given him, especially since he knew Gordy had had Brains give it some custom tweaks, but it just wasn't as meaningful as Tomo's. He had meant what he had said to their father, however. Alan loved all of his big brothers, but Tomo had never let Alan down. And he wasn't going to turn his back on the brother of his heart just because Gordon had decided he had time for Alan now.

After all, Alan grumbled to himself. Who knew when Gordon would decide he had better things to do than waste his time on Alan.

* * *

Gina Tanaka entered her boyfriend's dorm room quietly, placing her hands over her eyes before huskily whispering "Guess who?"

Tomo smiled and patted her arm. "Rena. Miss me?"

Gina sighed slightly, twisting around to sit next to Tomo. He insisted on calling her Rena, her Japanese name. Her parents had met in Japan when her mother had been working for an international company. When her mother had been transferred to London, Miriam Walters (she had never taken her husband's last name, much to his family's disapproval) had insisted that her daughter be allowed to "visit" her in Europe. Instead, the woman had quickly gotten the courts to give her primary custody of the six-year-old. Miriam had even taken to calling her daughter Gina, since she had wanted to call the little girl Virginia after her own mother. These days, Gina was hard pressed to answer to her birth name.

"My father wants to know if you will be coming with me when I visit after the end of the school year," Gina said casually. After much legal wrangling, Hisa Tanaka had gotten the visitations to include most of Gina's summer vacations – something Marian hadn't minded as it saved her the bother of arranging summer activities for her daughter – and even though she was now in college, Gina still went back to Japan every summer. The fact that she was seriously dating a "good" Japanese boy had made her father happy and her grandparents lay off cracks about her mother. Tomo was even westernized enough that her mother had given her begrudging approval.

"Depends," Tomo said as he saved his document before focusing on Gina. "Alan's graduation is the first weekend of June, two weeks after Yale finishes up. So we either have to do a quick roundtrip or I can't make it until after graduation. And remember, I have that summer internship at Tracy Enterprises in New York. I have to be back by the third week in June."

"The job is understandable and even admirable," Gina stated with a calmness she didn't feel. "But why do we have to attend the graduation of a boy you went to school with? He's not family."

"He is my family," Tomo said firmly. "We've discussed this before Rena. As far as I am concerned, Alan is my otouto."

Gina hid her annoyance at Tomo calling Alan Tracy by the title of "little brother". Putting on a face of false acceptance, she smiled. "Of course, Tomo. Family is important. It is why my father and grandparents want to get to know you better."

Tomo nodded. He rarely went back to Japan these days. His grandfather had died several years ago and when his mother had once more accepted the position as Ambassador to the United Nations in New York, well, there were only distant relations that Tomo barely knew. But he did love Rena and if this made her happy -

"Fine," he said firmly. "Graduation at Wharton's is at noon. We'll catch a late flight from Logan, say after six pm to avoid most of the business travelers, and that can allow us just over a week with your family. But I need a couple of days to get settled in New York. Luckily I can live with my mother."

Gina kept her smile pasted on. "That will be fine. But if you and I were to leave right after our last finals, we could have closer to two weeks. I'd be happy to even come back with you and then you and I could spend some time together before I went back to Japan for the rest of the summer and you started your internship. I am sure my father would approve of your mother as a chaperone." And if they were delayed coming back so that Tomo missed that little jerk's graduation, who cared?

Tomo shook his head. "No, Alan and I were talking about a field trip he has agreed to help with to the Museum of Science. It's after my classes end – barely. I told him I would meet up with him at the Museum. Professor Gunderson asked Alan to help after he helped the Freshman class with their term project. It was about space travel and there is an exhibit that just opened on "America in Space"." Smiling at Rena, he kissed her cheek. "Why don't you fly out ahead of me and I will join you?"

"No," Gina said demurely. "I'd rather go with you. I just recalled my mother has business in New York in a few weeks. I could visit her, get some shopping in…"

"Ugh, shopping," Tomo grimaced. "Yes, why don't you get that out of the way while I am in Boston? Then I can join you and spend a bit of time getting to know your mother better before we head to Japan. Sound good?"

"Whatever makes you happy," Gina smiled. She would eventually work things to follow into her plans. Tomo needed to see that she was the most important thing in the world for him, not that silly boy he clung to as a made-up family. She recalled the words of wisdom her grandmother had taught her – "A true woman lets her husband be the head of the house. She is the neck and will guide the head to wherever she wants it to go". And what Gina Tanaka wanted was to return to Japan and the happiness that she had lost at six. A husband that met the approval of both parents was essential to that plan. But not one who had part of his heart with someone who wasn't family. Family was everything.

And soon Gina would be Tomo's everything.

* * *

Kate smoothly exited Tracy One, bouncing her son on her hip. "We're home, Jas – Yes, we are."

"I could take him now, Katie," Scott said as he balanced what Kate called "the baby bundle". "I mean, equality of the sexes and all, you can grab some of this and I can hold Jason."

"So you want me to haul the porta-crib and the stroller and the luggage up to the villa?" Kate said. "Wow – what a gentleman."

"Don't be silly, Kate," Jeff interrupted as he entered the hanger. "You and Scott can grab the supplies – and ol' grandpa can take Jason." Jeff smoothly plucked his grandson from Kate's arms, chucking the baby under his chin before heading out of the hanger.

"Are we ever going to get to hold our son?" Scott whined even as he handed the stroller to his wife.

Kate just shrugged. With Sarah now pregnant, Kate had hope for the future. After all, Jeff could only hold two children at a time. When she said as much to her husband, Scott shrugged.

"The man is an engineer. Knowing him, he'll design something that will let him hold up to five children, under 40 pounds each, at one time."

Kate now sighed. Well, maybe she should start thinking about when Jason had kids.

* * *

Kyle came back to his small room, looking at the package he had been given with disgust.

"TJS Foodservice" was marked clearly on the pale blue uniforms, the manager of the District office had remarked with pride that the colored uniforms were much more stylish than your typical food service workers.

"Still feels like I should be asking if you want to super-size that," Kyle muttered. Setting aside his "employee papers", Kyle started to search for a pen. Not finding one, he picked up the folder and left the room.

Heading to the first floor, Kyle stopped and listened, trying to pick up the sound of voices. Honing in on the voices, he found George Addams, the head of the half-way house, and a stranger talking.

George looked up and gave a quick smile.

"Westcott," he boomed. "Just heard from Angelica at TJS. Said you were nice, polite and polished. She likes that and said to assure you she'll get you into the Museum of Science. But she wanted me to ask again if you'd like the Fine Arts instead. Said you sound fancy enough to appeal to people there."

"No thanks," Kyle said firmly. "I'd prefer the Science Museum."

George nodded. "Well, maybe you and Oz here can both work there. Make it easier for the shuttle to drop you off at the same place. Introduce yourselves, you'll be sharing a wash room." With that said, the big man turned and started to pull out items for dinner.

Kyle looked the stranger up and down before holding out a hand. No sense in alienating someone who could get to you in the showers – something he had learned quickly in prison.

"Kyle Westcott," the nineteen year old said with a cool smile.

"Oscar LaGroux," the other man said with a slight southern drawl.

George looked up and nodded. "Come on you two. I know no chores for either of you this weekend, but why don't you help me set up a few things. Then Westcott can show you around. While he's doing that, I'll call Angelica and see if she can't fit in two new workers. Like I said, make it easier on the shuttle."

Kyle looked over at the other parolee, wondering what the man was doing in Boston when he sounded more like he belonged in a much warmer climate. He gave a small smirk and wondered just how hard it would be to manipulate the other man.

Things were starting to look up for Kyle Westcott.

* * *

Kate Tracy was finally finished with reports for Tracy Industries – take a few days off and the in-box was always filled – when the signal from the vid-phone went off. Checking the number, Kate grinned and answered the call.

"Dorf!" Kate smiled as she greeted her friend.

"Eppsie," FBI Agent Daria Delgado (nee Morgendorfer, hence "Dorf" from Kate).

"How's life as a civilian?"

Smirking, Kate tapped a folder. "Profitable."

Shaking her head, Daria chuckled. "So you're buying lunch the next time you're in the city?"

"Can that be considered currying favor with law enforcement?"

"Nope," Daria responded. "Consider it something one old friend does for another."

Looking thoughtful, Kate tensed slightly. "And does an old friend have anything she wants to share?"

"The names you asked me to keep an eye out for?" Daria said. "I got hits on two of them this week."

Kate leaned back. "Which ones?"

"First we have one that didn't surprise me – Kyle Westcott," Daria began. "Kid did nine months before being released on good behavior and time served. He's at a half-way house in Boston, one with a good rep. But I'll keep an ear out just to be sure the little snot is keeping to the straight and narrow. Then again, after what happened to him in prison…"

"What?" Kate asked, thinking of the angry young man who wasn't much older than her beloved brother-in-law.

"Westcott had some bad run-ins among the population," was all Daria would say. "After the last one, they had to keep him separated for the rest of his time in prison. He had a pretty lonely time."

Kate nodded, sure there was more but reluctant to know what people who felt they had nothing to lose could do to other people.

"Not sure why you wanted this one," Daria muttered. "Westcott at least had some run-ins with your family. He was connected to the nut job that poisoned Alan, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Kate nodded again. "Who is the second one?"

"Oscar Lagroux, former resident of Georgia. He didn't have a lot of luck in prison, seeing as he was former law enforcement. They finally swapped him with a prisoner up in Massachusetts – LaGroux had an elderly aunt that lived up there who visited him every weekend. With his step-father in jail and his mother dying from a stroke during the trials, well, he really didn't have anyone else down there. The weird thing is they both ended up in the same half-way house for non-violent offenders."

"Non-violent?" Kate snapped. "LaGroux pulled a gun on…" Kate stopped, realizing she was about to say Sarah's name. The man had been so lucky Kate wasn't there that day.

"The court took into account his "stress levels"" Daria used air signs to indicate what she thought of the court's ruling. "Everything that happened that day of the flood – including his pulling a gun on the members of International Rescue – was rolled together with the corruption charges. Considering the fact that he helped his step-father cover up the kick backs and fraud from government contracts – including the one for the dam that was breached – the good state of Georgia was more anxious to nail him for that. The fact that a member of International Rescue laid him flat was considered enough of a payback. That and that he couldn't sue nor have charges lain on that guy. Can't legally go after someone no one can prove exists, can you?"

"He exists," Kate grumbled, thinking of the fact that John had punched out the deputy – and that Kate hadn't been able to.

"Got a name or description?" Daria smirked. "Last known residence or a legal employer – and savior of the world doesn't count." Looking thoughtful, Daria cocked her head.

"Still not going to tell me why the interests in LaGroux?"

"If I told you, I'd have to shoot you," Kate said in a serious tone.

"Having seen you shoot, I'll skip that," Daria responded cheerfully. "Bring Jason with you the next time you come to New York and I'll take the afternoon off so the boys can get together for a play date."

"If I can get him away from his grandfather," Kate grumbled before smiling at her friend. "Consider it a date. Now stop wasting my tax dollars and get back to work."

Kate picked up a file as she glanced back to the vid-phone, pushing the urge to call Alan aside. Setting the file back down, she picked up a picture of her family, looking at her grandfather.

"I don't know why, Grandpa," Kate said softly to the image of her later grandfather. "But the two of them together? I got a bad feeling about this."

Looking at her still-full out box, she sighed. She also had too much work to worry about something so unlikely to happen. But it might not be a bad idea to keep an eye on that half-way house…

* * *

Jeff Tracy went onto the lanai, watching his fourth son swim back and forth. "I hope all this swimming means that the report you had due to me is completed," he finally said when Gordon paused in his activity.

Looking over at his father, Gordon gave his impish grin and climbed out of the pool. "Yes, sir – I just need to proof it. But I think the Navy is going to love it – and with some adaption, the comm. system will be easily applied to commercial traffic as well."

"Sounds good," Jeff said as he sat next to a small table, indicating that Gordon should join him. Once Gordon had sat, Jeff gave a small sigh. "I have something else we need to discuss."

If it wasn't so serious, Jeff would have laughed as he watched Gordon consider just what he could have done lately that was getting him called onto the proverbial carpet.

"I spoke with Alan," Jeff began only for Gordon to interrupt.

"Did he tell you how much fun he had?" Gordon asked with a grin. "You could tell the kid was really enjoying himself. He and his friends were even considering a graduation celebration, maybe the afternoon after their last finals. Since Seniors stay a few days after finals and before graduation, it would be workable."

"Alan mentioned it," Jeff said slowly, with Gordon quickly speaking again.

"Maybe I could make it up there, again – I would stay through until graduation," Gordon said enthusiastically. "Then we could all go home together."

"I think you going up there would defeat the purpose," Jeff gently admonished.

"Alan wants to hang out with his friends."

"Al and I are friends," Gordon protested.

"Gordon," Jeff sighed. "You are three to six years older than Alan's friends. He loves you, you are his brother and yes, for years you were the terrible two. But Alan has friends that don't know you and some of them may feel uncomfortable with someone that could be viewed as a chaperone."

"Is this about Tomo Wattamee?" Gordon snapped. "He keeps calling Alan his little brother. He's not Alan's brother, I am. Scott, John and Virgil are. But this guy isn't."

"He cares for Alan like he is his little brother," Jeff admonished. "And Alan views him as another brother. I don't think you should be there if you can't be polite to Tomo."

"Alan won't feel that way," Gordon grumbled.

"Alan said if you can't treat Tomo with respect, you can skip his graduation," Jeff admitted.

Gordon looked like someone had slapped him before he jumped up from the table and went into the villa. He started towards his own room before he turned and entered Alan's.

Digging through a small phone book on Alan's desk, Gordon found a number and called on the vid-phone.

Thousands of miles away, Tomo answered the call.

"Gordon Tracy?" Tomo said in surprise. "What…" He paled before saying, "Is Alan ok?"

"As far as I know," Gordon snapped, "Allie is fine. What isn't fine is the fact that apparently my little brother is taking your side over mine."

Tomo sighed. "Gordon, Alan loves us both as brothers, and no – I am not his brother by blood. But I have been a brother to him in his heart – and he in mine."

"He doesn't need another brother," Gordon angrily replied.

Tomo glared at the redhead. "You know what? He did. He did need me. When he first came to Wharton's, I was a familiar face. We weren't close back then, but the fact that Alan already knew me gave us a slight bond. And every time he cried on my shoulder because of a wound you and yours inflicted on him, when he hid his pain from the rest of the world, Alan shared it with me. You made him cry and I wiped the tears. Who was the better brother? It was so easy for all of you to hurt him. And it took him nearly dying before you began to appreciate him."

"What do you mean?" Gordon asked, wondering if Alan had told Tomo about International Rescue.

"I know that John was there more for him after they both got hurt in John's lab," Tomo said. "But I really didn't see any support from all of you until after the hit and run."

Gordon tried not to sigh in relief, knowing the family secret was safe. But now he wondered if Alan felt the same way that Tomo was saying.

"And you know what?" Tomo continued when Gordon didn't respond. "From what he has let slip, I think Alan is scared that you will forget about him or consider him low priority. Scott, John and Virgil are all married, all starting their own families and he gets it – that has to come first. But how many other times has your family put everything before Alan. Alan wonders if you'll lose interest. Why do you think the kid does so many things? He is trying every day in so many ways to make sure he keeps his family's approval. You pushed him to the side and hurt the kid so much. Well, I won't be someone who forgets about him when a shinier toy comes along. As far as I am concerned, he is my little brother and I will be there for Alan when he needs me. Now are you going to play nice when Alan graduates or do we have to arrange for a mediator?"

Looking stung, Gordon snapped, "I'll be nice. But –"

"No buts," Tomo said. "Just remember – it's Alan's day and don't do anything to upset him, got it? Because I won't be the only one to get annoyed."

Gordon found himself looking at an empty screen, quickly realizing that Tomo had hung up on him. Picking up a picture frame on the desk, Gordon traced his youngest brother's face and gave a sad smile. "Sorry Allie," he muttered. "But I won't let anything stop me from being a good big brother again. And that includes Mr. Wanna-be Brother."

Outside the door, Jeff sighed and turned away. Somehow, he suspected the situation would only get worse.

* * *

_**A/N - Yeah - Gordon is kinda being a jerk. But you guys have been awesome. Thanks for all the support. How about some more, hint hint...**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - I do not own the Thunderbirds...Nope. Not me. And, no Numb3rs either. I may have numbers but no Numb3rs. 3 made all the difference.**_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Kyle Westcott schooled his face into a polite mask. The floor that he had spent a half hour cleaning was now a mess thanks to some snot nosed school kids from some _public _school deciding a food fight was a good way to spend their lunch break.

"Westcott," the manager called out. "Clean up that mess, then take your break."

Considering Kyle was supposed to have had his break a half hour ago, the nineteen year old wanted to say something. But while most were willing to give ex-cons a second chance, there were still others that were just waiting for him and Oz to mess up.

Oscar pushed out the fresh mop bucket with a nudge to Kyle. "Saw the free-for-all," the older man drawled. "Figured we'd be needing this. How about I heat up the soup George sent with us today while you finish this?"

"Thanks, Oz," Kyle muttered. The southerner hadn't said much, just that life had decided to screw him over. As someone that life had also done that to, Kyle could sympathize.

A few minutes later, Kyle was accepting a cup of warmed up chicken rice soup and an apple from the other man. Sighing, he propped up his feet. This area of the museum was off limits to the public, making it the perfect place for the employees to take their breaks. Across from the old table and chairs that were set up, along with a faded couch, was a bulletin board that announced upcoming events and displays for the museum. There were several break areas allowed to the staff, but this area of choice for most of the service employees, who felt they were the lowest of the pecking order, since the "uppers" preferred the fancier lounge by the management offices.

Looking up at the upcoming events, Kyle almost choked when he saw a familiar image. Centered in a display was a much younger Jeff Tracy.

Seeing Kyle's interest, Oz nodded. "Sometimes it's easy to forget that Money Bags Tracy started out as an astronaut. Guess they figure he'd be an extra draw for the America in Space display." Seeing Kyle still staring at the poster, he chuckled. "But bet you heard about him at your fancy school, right?"

Kyle nodded a bit before he snapped. "Yeah, you could say that. But not so much about his space career. I went to school with his youngest son, Alan. Little bastard had everything – the money, brains, athletic, crowds of admirers. And his family. His freaking family was always visiting, or calling him, or sending him packages. It was bad enough the teachers and other students thought he walked on water. What did that little shit do to make everyone love him? I could never figure it out. He wasn't so great."

Oz frowned. "You sound like you really hated the brat."

Nodding again, Kyle took another sip of his soup. "He screwed me over time and again. Because of him and his family, someone I loved ended up in jail. Then he ratted me out – in order to save one of his charity cases and I ended up in jail. My parents dumped me, my father even sneered at how Jeff Tracy's kid would have never embarrassed him like that. And the golden boy of Wharton's just keeps shining. Working on community projects, National Honor Society, Merit Scholar, USA Today's Top High School athletes – he even had some of his short stories published in Asimov Magazine. God, how I hate Alan Tracy."

Oz leaned forward after making sure no one else was around. "Then you should see this," he whispered, pushing a print out over to Kyle.

Kyle read the form, one from the Wharton's headmaster, accepting the invitation to be part of the special preview audience for the America in Space display. "Freshman science students, will be AP science students next year, won award for Group Science Achievement Award, yadda-yadda, one teacher, one former student and one Senior to act as chaperone…ALAN TRACY?"

Smirking, Oz whispered, "Most of these kids come from money. So will some of the VIPs at the preview day. What do you say we get some payback – and a pay out? I know a guy, he wasn't discharged to our place, but he still has ties to his old gang in Springfield. Some Hispanic street gang. Seems his cousin died and the Tracy family had something to do with it. He'd love some payback and has the firepower to make sure we get heard. Interested?"

Kyle nodded slowly. Any decency he'd had left in him had been shattered in prison. Making the Tracys pay to get Alan back alive seemed like the perfect revenge against the family that had started his pain…making sure they didn't actually get him back alive would be a sweet bonus in his eyes.

* * *

Don Eppes rolled his neck, trying to get rid of the kink that had been there since he had sat down this morning. Eyeing his in-boxes (both paper and e-mail), then sighed at the way they never seemed to shrink in size.

"Lynda," he called absently as he signed off on the latest report. His long-time assistant entered the room. Don had inherited the woman from his predecessor – and quickly came to realize how irreplaceable she was.

"Yes sir," Lynda Magee said as she picked up the pile of outgoing reports. Don knew she would have the reports scanned and sent to the appropriate departments within the hour.

"Did Senator Simpson call back on when the appropriations meeting was being rescheduled to?"

Lynda shook her head. "No, sir," she sighed. "I will update your schedule as soon as it has been."

Don gave a small smile. "Am I being a pain about that?"

"Yes, sir," Lynda said with a smile. "I already told the senator – and anyone else that asked – that you were unavailable for the first weekend in June. And yes, I also have had to tell a few people that it was personal and if they wanted any access to you between now and when you retire at the end of July they better not push it. Did you send the President your recommendations for a replacement?"

Don nodded. "Hopefully, they won't think I am leaning too much in David's favor. Bill Kotter from New York would also be a good choice."

"If he is selected, he would most likely promote Daria Delgado," Lynda commented. "She'd be young to become second in command of the New York office, but -"

"But she has a way of getting things done," Don said firmly. "Morgendorfer was always amazing – I knew she would go far when I first met her. You know, she was the only one willing to give Katie a chance from day one at the Academy. Can you imagine how much they could have accomplished if they had been teamed up together?"

"Can you imagine the chaos they would have caused?" Lynda answered with a smirk.

Don chuckled. Daria and Kate had always been a handful. The FBI suspected the two of them of having done some rather out of the box hacking over the years. Not to mention, Charlie was fairly sure that Kate and Daria were responsible for the now legendary "Hackers Code of Honor" that floated around the internet.

"So what are you doing the first weekend in June?" Lynda asked in confusion. "I made the reservations for you and Mrs. Eppes, but..."

Don smiled. "Alan graduates from high school that weekend."

"And he invited you?" Lynda questioned. "But I would think with all the family he has, there wouldn't be room for in-laws."

Chuckling again, Don nodded. "I have an advantage. Charlie was asked to be the guest speaker at the graduation ceremony. He got seats for Amita, Robin and myself so we can be there as well. We'll have a nice weekend in Boston, swinging over to Wharton's for the graduation and then back to Boston for tickets to Blue Man Group."

Lynda shook her head. "I'm surprised you didn't arrange to get tickets for Kate."

Don clenched his jaw. "Kate," he said tightly, "will be out of town for work. It would be too far for her to get to the ceremony."

Nodding, Lynda left the room, knowing from experience when to leave her boss to himself. "Really," she muttered. "Like Kate never had to go away for work when she was with the FBI – I mean, it's not like she's going to the moon."

* * *

Alan Tracy stopped when Professor Gunderson waved at him as he was exiting his physics class.

"Hi, Professor G," Alan said cheerfully.

Bertrand Gunderson, known for his very proper mannerisms, couldn't help but smile at Alan. The now eighteen year old boy may not be very prim or proper, but he brought a passion and enthusiasm to everything he did that seemed to sweep others up in the momentum. He had loved having the boy in his Astronomy class as a sophomore and was pleased when Alan had asked for advice in other science projects over the last two years. It was one of the reasons he had requested that Alan accompany the Freshman students- eight boys now all pre-selected for Advanced Placement science courses – that he had helped with their space project. Having the boys win a national Science competition, something never done by a Freshman group before, was quite the feather in Wharton's cap.

"Alan, I have the final information on the field trip," Gunderson said in a voice that still held the slightest trace of his youth spent outside of Berlin, before moving to Virginia to go to college. He had married his late wife and had remained in America, eventually becoming a citizen. When his wife, Abby, had died when their sons were eleven and fourteen, Wharton's became a sanctuary where he could watch over his boys while still pursuing his other love – teaching. A private school paid a little more, and as a bonus he was able to secure both on-campus housing for his family and free tuition at a top notch school for his sons. Thinking of Henry and Peter, now a cancer researcher and an astronomer for the World Space Program, respectfully, the professor felt a small amount of pride. The boys had made him a grandfather with two children each and both kept begging him to retire. But then another student would come along, one that he wanted to desperately be a part of making into an outstanding person – much like three years earlier, when he had first met Alan.

Alan looked up with curiosity. "Sir? I thought it was settled?" It was one of the reasons that he had asked Tomo to come with them. The school was willing to consider his friend an adult but since Alan was still a student, the administration had said at least one more adult was needed.

"A few people expressed concern, considering that Mr. Wattamee was also rather young, and not a teacher or staff member. However," Gunderson beamed, looking over Alan's shoulder, "there is a visiting professor to University of Massachusetts who was willing to spend the day with us."

"Hey Buddy," a familiar voice said behind Alan.

Alan whirled around, grinning, even as he was swept into a hug. "Uncle Charlie!" Alan cried out, his delight obvious.

"I had a couple of lectures at University of Massachusetts Amherst today, ones at Springfield the next two days, and I am leading a seminar at MIT on Friday," Charlie Eppes explained to Alan. "But I am free on Thursday – so will I do?"

"This is going to be awesome!" Alan crowed. "It's a presentation on America in Space and – well, it will be cool." Glancing at his watch, Alan yelped.

"Darn it, I'm going to be late!" Alan cried before running off.

"I'll take you to dinner," Charlie called out as Alan ran down the hall. A casual wave acknowledged that Alan had heard him, but the boy was soon gone from sight.

"Track season is over, right?" Charlie laughed to Professor Gunderson.

Gunderson nodded. "That boy only seems to be able to move at one speed – fast. That he does everything with such accuracy is only a bonus." Smiling at Charlie, he nodded. "Come, I have arranged for you to stay in my house on campus the next two days. No sense in staying in a hotel, is there Charles?"

Charlie just smiled as he followed Bernard. The two men had met years before when they were both at Princeton. Of course, Charlie was only fifteen at the time, but he had never forgotten the man who was one of the few of-age students to treat him decently.

And he had learned that just like with his former mentor, Larry Fleinhart – man, he still missed his old friend – correcting Bernard to call him Charlie was useless. The late Abby Gunderson was the only one who would ever call her husband Bernie – and that was only when she was annoyed at him.

Realizing he was thinking of yet another old friend who was now gone, Charlie sighed.

"Damn, I am getting old," Charlie muttered as he followed Gunderson outside to his rental car.

"Speak for yourself, Eppsie," Gunderson snickered.

Sighing, Charlie gave him a mock glare. "Don't you dare start quoting Marshall Penfield," he growled.

Gunderson and Charlie both paused before they sighed. And there was someone else they had both outlived. The irony of the man having died of brain cancer ten years ago was not lost on them, knowing how much Charlie's "frienemy" and Barton's former roommate had valued his mind.

Sighing again, Gunderson shook his head. "Maybe we are getting old."

Now outside, Charlie looked around at the teaming mass of young men, heading to their last classes of the day. "Not as long as we have these young minds to keep us young as well," he smiled.

Gunderson nodded. "And that is why we still haven't retired, yes?"

"Die with our boots on," Charlie joked. "Or at least in lecture mode."

Having reached his car, Charlie was pulling his suitcase out even as Bernard Gunderson tried to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine. "_A goose just walked over my grave_," his oma would have said. Thinking of his late grandmother, Bernard shook his head again. She had been from the country and very superstitious, and Bernard had rarely listened to her. But the older he got, the more her homespun words of wisdom resonated in him.

Still – nothing would happen. Surely his shiver was caused by the odd wind, or maybe his thyroid was a bit off. He would discuss it with his family doctor at his annual check-up, where once more the man would assure him he was as fit as a fiddle and would live many a year longer.

But the odd feeling never did leave him.

* * *

Kate Tracy finished up another report with a smile of satisfaction. "And that," she smirked at her infant son, blinking lazily from his portable crib near her desk, "is that Mister. How about we go see if Onaha will let me make some cookies, huh? Just like my Grandpa used to make for me?"

Jason waved his hands and grinned at his mother, even as he pulled himself up and began to bounce in excitement. For once, Kate didn't have reports for Tracy Industries and with Sarah now pregnant, she rarely ran Command and Control, leaving it to the red-head to handle that task since she couldn't go on rescues. Jason was beginning to figure out when was "fun time" and the tone of Kate's voice indicated this was one of those times.

Carrying the one-year-old on her shoulders, Kate saw that the fence around the pool was almost complete. If a charter boat hadn't capsized in rough waters in the Sea of Japan a few hours ago, Kate was sure Virgil and Scott would be finished with it. But with both Elizabeth and Jason mobile – and another baby on the way – Jeff had agreed it was a good idea to have the pool's access more limited.

Entering the kitchen, Kate called out "Onaha," before another voice answered her.

"My parents went to the mainland for supplies," Tin-Tin said as she looked up from her schoolwork. Seated at the breakfast bar – rarely used by the family, since it only seated four – the teenage girl went back to completing her micro-biology term paper, which would be due by the end of the week. Tin-Tin may have been homeschooled, but her on-line classes could be just as challenging as ones at any school around the world.

Pulling out the high chair Onaha kept in the kitchen, Kate secured Jason in it. Her son began to fuss, making Kate laugh.

"Listen, buster – you are still too young to sit in a normal chair. And if you want these cookies made, you better believe I can't chase you all over the place."

"I would have thought you'd be too busy getting everything together for your first solo trip up to Five," a new voice said. The three people in the kitchen turned to see Emily Tracy enter the house, setting her medical bag and brief case down.

Nodding at Jason, Emily grinned. "Can I get mine back?"

Tin-Tin smiled as she hit send on her computer. Putting away her supplies, she stood up. "Elizabeth was taking a nap in Mr. Tracy's room. Sarah was listening out for her so I could finish my report. I'll go see if she's awake."

Emily nodded her thanks and looked at Kate with a grin. "Those Tracys do like their sleep, don't they?"

Kate just smiled as she began to mix together the ingredients she had gathered.

"What are you making?" Emily asked even as she poured a glass of tea from the fridge.

"Chocolate peanut butter cookies," Kate said absently. "Scott's been after me to make them ever since he discovered I knew Grandpa's recipe. I figured I would if I could finish my work before going up."

"Nervous about your first solo trip?"

Kate smiled softly. "Yes and no. I'm comfortable with the idea of heading up to Five and heavens knows, I've been more uncomfortable on stakeouts for the FBI. But I hate the idea of missing even just a week of my son's life."

Emily's smile was just as soft but tinged with a touch of sadness. "That I can understand."

Kate looked over at her sister-in-law, busy fussing with Jason before Tin-Tin re-entered the room carrying Elizabeth who had obviously just woken from her nap. John had missed much of his daughter's young life, and even with her devoted mother – and extended family – the video chats just didn't always cut it. No one argued or tried to commandeer the toddler from her doting daddy when he was back on Terra Firma.

Suddenly, Kate began to chuckle. As she juggled her daughter, Emily looked at Kate in confusion.

"And just what, dare I ask, is so funny?" Emily demanded.

"I just realized that Dad won't be commandeering Jason for at least a few days after I get back from Five," Kate crowed. "There is another good point of heading to the stars for a week."

The three women began to laugh, knowing that she was right. The sound of Thunderbird One outside made them smile even more. Their family was coming home…

* * *

Nicolas "Nico" Herrera hung up the phone, a cruel smirk on his face. He had "moved" up to the Springfield, Massachusetts area when he was fourteen – after shooting a New York City cop and blaming it on a rival gang. Nico's older cousin, Enrique, known as Assenio, had been the leader of the Blades and was happy to have more family fighting by his side. Nico had quickly become close to Assenio's younger brother, Carlos. But in a few short days, Nico had lost both of his cousins.

Carlos, only sixteen, had shot a drug dealer who had foolishly been selling on Blades' turf, and had been sent to an adult prison, supposedly in error. Nico was sure it was on purpose, because look how quickly Carlos had been attacked and killed. Enrique, who had been trying to get out of town, had been gunned down, allegedly in the middle of trying to kidnap Alan Tracy, the youngest son of billionaire Jeff Tracy.

Thinking of the boy he had seen in the papers, Nico's blood boiled. The pretty little Anglo boy was protected and nurtured, considered a promising asset to society. If Alan Tracy so much as got a hangnail, he was given the best medical care and attention. The boy had been in the hospital – the same hospital that had shipped Carlito off to his death – protected and surrounded by his loving family at the time that Enrique had been murdered as well.

And now Nico had seen his network of informants giving him some good data. He now had a plan, a way to punish society, to make them pay, for his family's pain – and Alan Tracy was the key.

"Javi!" Nico called out.

"Yes, Jefe," Javier Ramirez said as he came up the stairs. Javier had only recently joined the bloods. He had tried to avoid the gangs, but when his father died of cancer, Javi had found himself pretty much alone.

"The time to prove yourself is coming, Javier," Nicolas said coldly. "Time to prove to me that you are ready to take a proper place in the Blades, just as your brother Angelo would have wanted."

Javier tried not to look worried. Nico was one of the few people who knew Angelo Ramirez had not been Javi's cousin as most thought but his older brother. Javier's mother had become pregnant by the other man before Angelo's mother had stabbed him. The man that Javi considered his father, a first cousin of the elder Ramirez, had married the sixteen year old girl and claimed the baby as his. Marco Ramirez had eschewed the gang life and lived to a relatively old age of forty-eight before dying of cancer. With his mother long dead from a drive by shooting, Javi had no real family that wasn't dead or in jail. Nico Herrera had shown up at his father's funeral and assured Javier that "you are not alone. We are family. Angelo would want us to take care of you."

"Sure Jefe," Javier quietly responded. It would probably just be another job of watching out for Nico while he pulled some job. Javi never asked any questions, fairly sure he wouldn't like the answers.

"Our families' blood is calling, Javier," Nico smiled cruelly. "You must be ready to answer the call, right?"

Nodding tightly, Javier felt as if he would lose his lunch. He was not sure what was coming, but he knew – nothing good ever came when Nicolas Herrera smiled like that.

"_I got a bad feeling, Papa," _Javier prayed to his late father.

* * *

_**A/N - I hope I answered all the reviews. If I didn't, sorry - it's been a rough week, if you couldn't tell by the fact that I am a day late. Will try to get back on track for next week, but in the meanwhile, enjoy this chapter and keep me warm with the love (because it is going into the single digits overnight here tonight). - CC**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Dying of the Light**

* * *

**_Disclaimer - No. If I did own anything that I have previously denied owning (see chapters 1-3), I would not 1) work two jobs or 2) be sitting here, waiting for 2-3 FEET of snow._**

**Chapter Four**

_The next week..._

Alan Tracy smiled as he practically ran down the steps.

"Woah, Buddy," Charlie Eppes friendly voice called out as he grabbed Alan's arm. "You don't want to have any injuries before graduation, do you? After all, you still have to sit for your finals."

Alan just chuckled. "Nah. All of my classes chose to go with essay exams this year. Well, except my AP math class and even that was one that I sat for yesterday since my class is taking it -" he glanced at his watch. "Well, they should be taking it now."

Charlie nodded. It was the first day of exams for the Seniors – their exams could be sat as much as a week before the underclassmen, since many of their classes required essay exams or major projects as part of their final grade.

"And you have already completed all essays or projects, Mr. Tracy?" Professor Gunderson asked with an indulgent smile as he came up behind Charlie. Patting his old friend on the shoulder, he chuckled. "And you Charles? Are you ready to deal with a bunch of teenagers?"

Smirking, Charlie snarked, "Teenagers – high school freshmen - are probably easier to deal with than teenagers who are college freshmen. You remember the type – young, eager to prove they are adults and don't need any supervision."

"You weren't like that," Gunderson retorted.

"Bertie – my mother accompanied me to college, remember?"

Alan, who had come back, let out an uncharacteristic giggle, was shaking his head in amusement. "And I thought my family was overprotective."

"They are," Charlie sighed as he slung an arm around Alan's shoulder and led him to the school van. "Why do you think Kate is glad I'm coming?"

Alan looked confused. "Um, Uncle Charlie – you were only a consultant. It's not like you were an FBI agent."

Charlie gave a small smirk before answering. "One of these days, I'll tell you about how much easier target shooting is when you apply math."

Bertrand Gunderson shook his head before following the pair into the van. At least he knew today would not be boring.

* * *

Oz watched from the sidelines as Kyle stacked dishes into a pan and headed back to the kitchen.

"Mr. LeGroux," the manager sniped. "Why are you here?"

Oz gave what he hoped was a disarming smile. "Kyle isn't a bad kid. I thought we could walk around the museum later. You know – take advantage of employee benie's."

The manager looked the ex-con up and down. She hated having convicts here but TJS Catering was big on reforming and second chances. So far, none of them had caused any problems but she knew it was only a matter of time.

"Just make sure you don't embarrass the museum," she growled before walking away.

"Charming bitch, ain't she?" a new voice spoke up, making Oz look over his shoulder.

"Hey Nicky," Oz drawled.

Nico frowned before shrugging. He was the one who had given Oscar LeGroux the nickname of Oz in prison. While the former lawman had been somewhat grateful to be given some kind of a rep in prison, he hadn't liked Nico's presumption in nicknaming him so he had started called him Nicky. For some reason, Nico didn't mind. There was a certain arrogant charm to the Southerner...

But he still didn't like the nickname.

However, the in – and the opportunity for revenge – that Oz was giving him would be perfect. Nico could forgive him – this time. As long as he got money, and could kill that spoiled rich little bastard, Alan Tracy, Nico was willing to forgive just about anything.

Javier Ramirez came up behind Nico and cleared his throat. When he was sure Nico was listening, Javi quietly said, "The bus you said to look out for is parking in the reserved parking area."

"No public parking for these rich boys, huh?" Nico sneered.

Javi said nothing, knowing there was nothing to really say anyhow. Oz came back at that moment with Kyle in tow.

"We'll come in from the employee entrance," Kyle said. "That is after we show you the access tunnel behind the displays."

"Why do we crawl through access tunnels?" Nico snapped.

"Because we have employee badges," Oz shrugged. "No one will ask about us. Access tunnels should be unattended, so you can go through as long as someone has a key. Luckily, one was left unattended in the offices. At least it was unattended after I picked the lock on the case."

Javi looked out the window, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that threatened to swamp him. A movement caught his eye; below him were two older men being greeted by the event manager, while a group of teenagers stood behind. In the front of the group was a tall, slender blonde – Javi was fairly sure that was Alan Tracy. The blonde turned suddenly as another young man, one with dark hair, ran towards them. Alan reached out for the other man, receiving a one-armed hug with obvious happiness.

Alan Tracy seemed so – so – normal. Javi doubted the boy deserved to be threatened or harmed in any way. Maybe...

"Javi," Nico snapped. "Stop your daydreaming – we have to get into place."

Nodding, Javi followed Nico, once more ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

"Alan!"

Alan turned, delight clear on his face, at the sound of Tomo's voice.

"Tommy, dude!" the blonde crowed. "You look awesome."

"Thank you, very much," Tomo responded in a very bad Elvis imitation.

"Dude," Alan laughed. "I can't do street and you so can't do Elvis."

"Pfft – what do you know, shrimp?"

Alan just looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. Alan now topped six feet – ok, just barely – and was a good two or three inches taller than his friend.

"Shrimp?"

Tomo grinned as he put an arm around Alan's shoulder and began to follow where the professors were already taking the freshmen. "You will always be Shrimp to me – like you are still Sprout to your brothers, and – what do your sisters-in-law call you?"

Alan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Kate calls me Kiddo, Emily calls me Sweetie and Sarah Jane calls me Baby. And now Uncle Charlie calls me Buddy. All I can think of is the movie Elf when he does that but Kate told me that her father used to call Uncle Charlie that."

"Heck, he still calls me that," a new voice said.

Alan and Tomo looked over to see Charlie Eppes had retreated to their position.

"Just seeing what was taking you so long," Charlie smiled. "And Alan – you will always be the baby. Trust me, I know."

Alan chuckled. "So Kate has warned me. My children can have children and my family will still see me as the baby to be protected."

"Hey, that's my job," Tomo protested.

Charlie laughed. "The way I hear it, Alan needs as many eyes watching his back as possible."

Grimacing, Alan, moved them forward to join the main group. "Really – you guys act like I am a trouble magnet."

Charlie and Tomo exchanged glances. There was no way they were commenting on that.

They knew all about Tracy Tempers.

* * *

Jeff continued to thumb through a report, while his finger tapped on his coffee cup. Picking the mug up, he went to take a sip only to realize that the coffee was gone. Sighing, Jeff stood, heading towards the coffee maker. Selecting a k-cup, he stood back and watched it brew. It had just finished and his hand was stretching towards it when was startled by a voice behind him.

"And that's how many cups?"

Jeff whirled around with a smile, his arms already stretched out. Ignoring a grinning Scott, Jeff pulled his grandson into his arms.

"Hey, my big boy! Jas – did someone miss Grandpa? Did you?"

Jason began some random baby talk – a few words were actually understandable – as he gave his grandfather a sloppy baby kiss.

Scott leaned against the door frame as he sighed. Sensing more than seeing Anne Marie behind him, Scott muttered, "I doubt he was ever that happy to see me."

Bouncing Elizabeth against her hip, Jeff's PA just laughed. "Let's see how this goes," Anne Marie whispered.

"GANPA!" Elizabeth called out as Anne Marie set her down. The little girl quickly toddled over to her grandfather, pouting that he hadn't noticed her yet.

Jeff grinned. "And my little princess? How is Grandpa's Princess?" Jeff reached down and scooped up the toddler while balancing Jason on his other side. Looking at Scott, he became puzzled. "How did I get so lucky as to get both of them here?" Jeff had been annoyed to have to spend most of the week in New York, missing his time with his grandbabies.

"Emily has a procedure today," Scott explained. "And Gordo and Sarah Jane are heading to drop Kate off at her _conference_ while getting John from his _lab_. Since Tin-Tin has finals this week and the Kyranos had to get supplies, I couldn't be this cruel to Virgil and possibly freak him out this early in the game. So – I got these two to agree to come with me so I can attend that meeting with the R&D team for the new jet engine. I figured _someone _might like a break of an hour or so, then we can all have lunch together when I'm done."

"Sounds good," Jeff agreed, beaming at his grandchildren. "How would you guys like to come upstairs with me?" The toddlers smiled back at their grandfather. Grandpa was always fun.

"And what were you planning for lunch?" Anne Marie asked wryly. "Neither of you can cook."

"I can cook," Jeff said defensively. At Anne Marie's raised eyebrow, he continued. "Well, I can cook some things."

Scott laughed. "Yeah, I know – I am a threat to kitchens everywhere. How about Trenia's?" he asked, referring to a high end restaurant the Tracys favored when in New York.

Anne Marie shook her head. "I'll get you two steaks from Trenia's. I'll get these two Happy Meals from McDonalds."

Jeff shrugged. "OK, but if Emily finds out, I am telling her it was your idea. You know how she feels about fast food."

"Way to pass the buck, boss man," Anne Marie sighed. "In the end, I think Emily will err on the side of caution, with junk food being better for the kids than them eating what you two could come up with." Ignoring the Tracys, she entered Jeff's office and picked up his files. "I'll get these organized for your signature."

"What happened to me having to deal with them by myself?" Jeff asked as he headed towards his private elevator to the penthouse.

Anne Marie shrugged with a chuckle. "Because I needed the morning off – so thanks, boss."

Ignoring Jeff's glare and Scott's roaring laughter, Anne Marie went back to her desk. She still had her own work to do after all.

* * *

Alan smiled as he watched the Freshmen enthusiastically ask questions of the man guiding the private tour. While there had been a private showing the night before for donors, the Wharton group was getting a sneak peak as a reward for their award winning presentation. The guide, a Mike Bonner, was enjoying being the "expert" to the students.

"And this display is on the Prometheus Mission," Bonner said, with a smug smile. "Who can tell me who led that mission?"

When none of the students answered, Bonner continued, "It was none other than Medal of Honor winner Jeff Tracy himself -"

"Excuse me, Mr. Bonner," Alan interrupted. "Zachary Lincoln led the Prometheus Mission. Jeff Tracy was the engineer and, due to his actions which saved both the mission and the crew, he was awarded the Medal of Valor. He was never a Medal of Honor winner."

"And how can you be so sure of that, Mr…um, Mr. -"

"Tracy," Alan said politely. "Alan Tracy."

Bonner paled. "Any relation to…?"

"As in Jeff Tracy's son, yes."

"Oh," Bonner said, shakily pulling his notes from his pocket. "But I had here that a Tracy won the Medal of Honor."

"That would be my oldest brother, Scott," Alan explained. "He was awarded it during the Terrorist Wars. Dad won the Medal of Valor, and was one of the first Americans to be awarded it on a National level outside of law enforcement. It was given out by the Space Agency twice before it was made a national military medal during the Terrorist Wars. But to return to your original statement, Uncle Zac – um, I mean Colonel Zachary Lincoln – was the Mission Commander for the Prometheus Mission."

"Um, I…listen, I'll be right back. Look around but don't touch the displays, please."

Bonner scurried out of the room. As soon as he left, Alan and Tomo began to chuckle.

"Leave it to you, Alan," Tomo said.

"I didn't do anything," Alan protested.

"Next time maybe we'll get an actual expert instead of someone they pulled from the gift shop," Charlie joked as he joined the pair, watching with a smile as Professor Gunderson explained a display to the other students.

"Nah, he was from the lunch room," Alan snarked, making his companions roar with laughter.

"Always joking, aren't you Tracy?"

Alan whirled around, shocked to see a younger man, one who seemed familiar, approach them, a bandana covering his face making him seem a legitimate threat.

The assault weapon he had in his hand was even more alarming.

* * *

_**A/N - If I don't answer reviews, it might be because we lost power...**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - Nope. No Thunderbirds, no Numb3rs. Just lots of aches and pains from clearing away more than two feet of snow - after the sno-blower decided it didn't want to play nice.**_

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_"Next time maybe we'll get an actual expert instead of someone they pulled from the gift shop," Charlie joked as he joined the pair, watching with a smile as Professor Gunderson explained a display to the other students._

_"Nah, he was from the lunch room," Alan snarked, making his companions roar with laughter._

_"Always joking, aren't you Tracy?"_

_Alan whirled around, shocked to see a younger man, one who seemed familiar, approach them, a bandana covering his face making him seem a legitimate threat. _

_The assault weapon he had in his hand was even more alarming._

Alan forced his eyes to rise back to the slender man approaching him, noting absently that his light brown hair and pale blue eyes were familiar, but that he couldn't place him.

Another man, also wearing a bandana and clutching an assault weapon, was locking the doors behind him, making sure that the people trapped within had no means of escape.

"What do you want?" Charlie said calmly, subtly placing himself between the gunman and Alan.

The first gunman raised his weapon and pointed it at Charlie before the other man hurried over, placing a hand on the first man's arm and shaking his head. Twisting the weapon around, he quickly slammed the butt of the gun into Charlie's head, causing the genius to collapse to the ground in pain, blood streaming from the wound.

Alan quickly crouched next to his honorary uncle, pulling out a handkerchief – grateful that Emily insisted he carry them now – and pressed it to Charlie's head.

"You didn't have to do that," Alan snapped in anger, focusing on the injury rather than the one who caused it.

The first gunman snapped, grabbing Alan's arm and ripping him away from Charlie and Tomo. Shoving Alan against a nearby display, he pointed the gun at Alan's throat and growled, "If I want you dead, then you are going to die. And who does this bastard think he is to ask me anything?"

Charlie forced himself up and glared at the gunmen. "I am Professor Charles Eppes, a visiting professor from Cal-Sci. And I can assure you, my parents were married long before my birth."

"Eppes," the second gunman sneered. "Another intellectual – oh, what is the polite term for you?"

"If you are thinking what I think you are," Tomo hissed. "There is no polite term for anti-Semitism."

"Eppes," the first gunman said more softly, before tracing his gun up and down Alan's cheek. "Didn't one of your brothers marry a woman with that name – after he knocked her up, of course?"

Charlie took a protective step forward, pausing only when the gun dug into Alan's throat, making the teenager gasp in pain. "Scott Tracy is married to my niece, Kate – he and his brothers are, as far as I am concerned, my nephews as well."

Alan began to look at the first gunman in confusion. While anything his family did seem to be newsworthy to most, it was weird that…

"Oh, shit," Alan muttered. "Kyle? Kyle Westcott? When the hell did they let you out?"

* * *

Don Eppes was enjoying a rare moment of peace. It seemed he could never do this – sit back with a cup of coffee and enjoy the excellent view from his office window. Don had yet to be in a truly high-powered office in DC without being awed at the view. Everywhere you looked, American history was practically screaming in your face. You could almost forget the number of crimes that seemed to occur when the lights went down in the city…Then again, some of the worst crimes probably occurred in the hallowed halls of Congress.

He had just taken another sip of coffee when his phone rang. Quickly swallowing, Don reached out and picked up the receiver.

"Eppes," he said calmly.

_"Don, this is Mike Haddad," _the voice on the other end of the line said.

"Mike, how are Helen and the kids," Don asked the head of the ATF.

_"Fine, Jimmy is starting college next fall at Stanford and Kelly is heading to law school. But unfortunately, this isn't a social call."_

Don sighed. "I never like it when a call starts out like this."

Mike gave a small chuckle. _"Trust me, I don't like making them. We are seeing a push in some new leaders of gangs in the northeast. Particularly in Western Mass. The organization of the street gangs seemed to fade after Enrique Herrera died."_

"I remember," Don said. This was very true as it had been an off-shoot of that case that had first brought Katie into the sphere of the Tracys.

_"Well, Assenio's cousin, Nicolas Herrera has assumed command. He's been doing some arms dealing and one of our informants gave us a tip that he was heading to Boston today. So we were watching for him. Don, he headed into the Museum of Science."_

"Wo-kay," Don drawled. "That seems like a weird place to buy or sell weapons."

_"That isn't why I called. There was a school group heading into the museum on the surveillance and I just saw a face I recognized. Don, it was Charlie."_

"Charlie?" Don snapped. "My kid brother, Charlie." The fact that Charlie was now a grandfather himself didn't erase that this was still his kid brother.

_"The one and only."_

Don rubbed his forehead, muttering, "Oh, yeah – the field trip…" Suddenly, ice flooded the pit of his stomach.

"Didn't Herrera's mother and another relative try to bring wrongful death lawsuits in the cases of the death of him and his kid brother?"

Clicks from a keyboard could be heard before the ATF chief spoke again.

_"Yes. A small settlement was given in the death of Carlos Herrera. That was the son that died after being assaulted in an adult prison when he should have been sent to juvie. The case against the hospital and the family of the kid he was trying to kill when Enrique was shot were dismissed."_

Don forced his breathing to calm down. "That kid was Alan Tracy, my son-in-law's kid brother and part of the group Charlie was heading to the museum with today." Charlie had e-mailed about his delight in doing some guest lectures at the schools in Massachusetts as well as spending a day at the Museum of Science with Alan.

_"You don't think Nico Herrera is crazy enough to go after the kid again, do you?"_

"If blood proves true, yeah, I think he is," Don said grimly. After getting a promise to keep him in the loop, Don signaled his PA.

"Lynda, check on the availability of flights to Boston. I think I need to go there. No, not next weekend. Today. The sooner, the better."

Reaching into the drawer, Don pulled out his service weapon and credentials. "Dad," he muttered, "I got a bad feeling about this."

* * *

Bernard Gunderson stepped closer before he growled. "Kyle Westcott, put down that gun and explain yourself, young man!"

Even behind the bandana, Kyle's sneer was obvious. "I don't have to explain myself to anyone, old man. I was kicked out of the hallowed halls of Whartons, remember? I don't answer to you."

"How about answering to your probation officer?" Tomo asked, raising an eyebrow. "If you're out, it has to be on probation."

Kyle just tightened his grip on Alan. "I was going to be someone. Someone my father couldn't ignore. But oh, no – Mr. Perfect here had to ruin that. Mr. Perfect Alan Tracy, athlete - student leader, teacher's pet, the joy of his oh-so-precious family – had to destroy everything. Why couldn't you just die? I made it so easy for that stupid bitch. I helped her get on campus, made sure the tampered trail mix came to you – but oh, no you just won't die, will you?"

Alan looked horrified. "David Turcotte never had anything to do with it, did he?"

"Who is David Turcotte?" Charlie asked.

Gunderson stepped closer to his old friend with a sigh. "He was a scholarship student who had a work-study job in the Wharton Mail Room. David committed suicide, leaving a typed note that he had helped the young woman who had poisoned Alan Tracy. His family has always sworn it was impossible but they had nothing while the police had the confession."

"I couldn't believe they accepted it all so easily," Kyle crowed. "I mean, an unsigned, typed note? Just proved they get the biggest idiots in law enforcement."

Charlie, stung when he considered how many of his family and friends were law enforcement, snapped, "Yeah? Well, they were smart enough to get you for – well, whatever they got you for."

Shaking his head, Kyle practically screamed, "NO! No, they were not. Alan Tracy was the one who "got" me. Not the cops. They just obeyed a Tracy's orders."

"All I did," Alan said with a calmness he didn't feel, "was report you to school administration for threatening a kid on the track team. The school brought in the police and the district attorney chose to prosecute you once you were arrested for drugs."

"I still don't get it," Tomo said. "You had money, a good college lined up…Why? Why did you do it?"

"Power," Professor Gunderson said in anger. "By doing what he did, Mr. Westcott had power over those who lacked it, those afraid of losing what little they had. While students follow someone like young Alan because he is someone they admire, others trail behind someone like Mr. Westcott because they are afraid. He would have made an excellent Nazi back in the day."

Kyle turned in anger, pointing a gun towards his former professor. The question on if he would have acted on it would remain unanswered for now when the silence of the moment was shattered.

"And," a new voice drawled in a voice that was an odd blending of New York, New England and some kind of Hispanic, "he now has the power again, don't you mi amigo?"

Two new comers approached the group from behind a mock-up of a space capsule. From the almost gleeful expressions on the faces of the first two men, their hostages knew – a bad situation had just gotten worse.

* * *

Kate disconnected the call her father had made as he prepared to board a flight to Boston. Lowering her head to her folded hands, she wondered if she had ever felt quite as helpless as she did at the moment.

Raising her head once more, Kate considered calling her husband. Scott had gone to New York with the kids to catch up on a project and let Jeff visit with his grandchildren before he would head into withdrawal. Scott had even mentioned the possibility of heading to Wharton's and visiting Alan while he was "in the area".

"Scott second, I need to call someone else first," Kate muttered before sighing. How did John keep from going nuts being up here by himself half the year?

Making sure the program was in place to give the illusion that Kate was wearing "business casual" clothes and selecting an office background, she placed a call to New York.

"Federal Bureau of Investigations, New York – how may I direct your call?" a voice asked, the FBI symbol up where a person usually would be.

"Teleconference call for Special Agent Daria Delgado, from Katherine Eppes Tracy," Kate said coolly, knowing that this was one time where her maiden name could have more pull than her married one.

After being hastily assured that Agent Delgado was being informed, Kate waited less than a minute for her friend to appear.

"Yo Eppsie!" Daria said cheerfully. "Calling to arrange that play date for our boys?"

"Something a bit more serious than that," Kate said in a tight voice. As she relayed the information her father had given her, backing it up with the fact that the locale happened to be the same place where two people on their "watch list" were working made Daria become all business.

"OK, keep it together," Daria soothed her friend. "Let me place a call to the Museum, see if they can't grab the Wharton's group before anything can happen."

"And what if it's too late?" Kate asked as she worried her lower lip between her teeth – a clear tell of how frantic she was to someone who knew her well. And Daria did know Kate well.

Daria raised her chin and gave a small smile. "I'll head up to Boston now, is that ok?"

"Good," Kate nodded.

Raising an eyebrow, Daria asked, "Aren't you afraid I will get in trouble with the boss?"

"No," Kate said bluntly. "Because you are already scheduled to board North American Airlines Flight 1010 at JFK – Dad is boarding it in DC, it will be in NYC in 45 minutes so grab your go bag and head to the airport now."

"Kinda presumptuous, wasn't it, Eppsie?"

"I can't be there," Kate calmly responded. "So if I can't be there, I need someone I can trust to protect my family."

Daria nodded. "I'll call you when I get there."

"Do that."

The call ended and even as Daria grabbed her go bag and flagged down a cab outside of the FBI building, Kate began to monitor any communications. Seriously – how did John stand this?

* * *

Jeff Tracy sat watching his grandchildren play. Both Elizabeth and Jason had "alpha" stamped on them, making it clear they were destined to be leaders, not followers.

"They behaving?" Scott asked as he finished setting out the kids' meals. The two toddlers moved quickly towards the table, happily devouring the chicken nuggets and apple slices.

"Good as gold," Jeff said with a smile. "How did the meeting go?"

"Everything is on track," Scott said confidently as he handed his father a sandwich.

"Sandwiches?" Jeff asked in confusion. "Even I could have managed sandwiches."

"They are the roast beef specials," Scott said with a grin. "With fresh baked bread, homemade horseradish sauce and fresh sliced tomatoes."

Biting into a sandwich, Jeff held back a groan. "OK, I couldn't have managed these."

Scott chuckled and was half way through the sandwich when the vid phone rang. Checking the number, he frowned. Answering quickly, he smiled at the figure on the screen.

"Hey, Katie," Scott said with a smile. "Missing your boys that much?"

Jason looked over and grinned, abandoning his nearly completed meal to run towards the vid-phone.

"Mama!" the one year squealed in delight.

Smiling at Jason, Kate took note of the milk drool on his chin. "Go finish your lunch, baby – Mommy has to talk to Daddy."

The toddler looked a bit confused but followed Elizabeth when the little girl began tugging him back towards their small table. Jason stopped long enough to blow his mommy a kiss which the dark haired woman happily caught and held to her heart, much to her son's delight.

"Kate, what is it?" Jeff asked with quiet urgency, knowing that Kate would not willing give up a moment of her son's attention without good reason.

Worrying her lip, Kate softly answered. "I put in your flight plan for Boston. You need to head up there. I was really hoping it was nothing, but I can't raise Alan…"

"Honey, Alan is in the Museum right now," Scott assured her. "He probably turned off his cell."

"He sets it to vibrate," Kate responded. "But he never turns it off. NEVER." Pulling herself together, she eyed the two small children pretending not to watch the conversation while finishing off their Happy Meals.

"I just downloaded some information to your e-mails. Read it and then see if you don't agree with me."

Whipping out their phones, Jeff and Scott began to read, their eyes widening in panic as they began to comprehend the situations. "Scott, grab the ready bags," Jeff said tightly. "I'll get the kids." Looking up at Kate, he nodded.

"Tell your father and Agent Delgado we'll be in Boston – maybe even before them. If it is nothing, I'll buy them dinner."

Kate nodded in return, her heart ready with the sinking feeling that they all would be lucky to get pizza. Then again, there was nothing like a life-threatening situation to ruin an appetite. Which, when you thought about the Tracys, was really saying something.

* * *

Kyle was getting anxious. He could hear someone pounding on the door outside. Looking around the room, he realized that there was no phone. How could they make demands? They were supposed to make demands so they would get money! He needed money again almost as much as he needed revenge on Alan Tracy.

"What do you think you are going to do now?" Alan hissed. "We are trapped in here together. If you want to kill me, why don't you just do it and leave the rest of the guys alone?"

"Don't you tell me what to do!" Kyle screamed at Alan. "This is your entire fault! You and that family of yours! YOU! A Tracy took away the only person who ever cared about me! A Tracy sent me to prison! And you, you had to be so freaking perfect! What is it about you that makes people care so much! You don't deserve it!"

"Leave him alone!" Charlie said fiercely. "Just because you screwed up your life, that your life wasn't perfect, you have to blame Alan? He's a good kid!"

"You had much of the same opportunities," Professor Gunderson spoke up in a sharp tone. "It is not Alan's fault that you wasted them."

"And it sure as hell isn't Alan's fault that he has people that love him," Tomo argued. "A lot of kids at Wharton's had family that didn't put them as their highest priority." A couple of the freshmen nodded sagely at that – sadly it was only the scholarship students that were not among those agreeing with the point. "He's a good kid who cares about people and people respond accordingly."

"Shut up!" Kyle screamed as he grabbed Alan and threw him to the ground. Raising his gun, he waived it at the entire Wharton group. "Get down and stay there! I said get down now!" Kyle punctuated his rant by popping of three shots, making the hostages begin to panic when they realized that one of those shots had hit a member of their group…

* * *

_**A/N - I didn't answer reviews. Between busy with snow, then rather sick with a bad cold, then busy again...well, be glad you got a chapter.**_

_**I have been asked if I will be doing the convos again. Not sure. It is actually kinda time consuming and it has been hard just to find time to write. Maybe not until next story. I will consider it but can not make any promises. Thanks.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - Cold is better, Thunderbirds aren't mine, and the mystery of who was shot - in this chapter - is solved.**_

* * *

**chapter 6**

"Dammit!" Charlie Eppes cussed. "Years of working with the FBI, NSA and the rest of the alphabet soup and I get shot in a museum in Boston?"

Alan paused to glare at Kyle before answering. "It's just a flesh wound Uncle Charlie. You probably got worse shaving."

"Yeah, well," Charlie muttered. "It still hurts."

Alan continued to press down on the wound with the handkerchief he was glad Emily insisted he carry. "Not what she probably thought I would use it for," he mused.

"Is he gonna be ok?" a small voice asked.

Looking over his shoulder, Alan gave a smile at Marco Valestro. "Yeah, Marco – he should be ok. We're all going to be alright, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Pretty Boy," Nico Herrera sneered at Alan.

Pushing down the shudder that rose in him at the derisive nickname – having last heard it from a sexual predator who had been holding him and his father prisoner in Jeff Tracy's New York office – Alan looked at the gang leader with contempt.

"So big and brave with your guns, terrorizing school kids? Wow – you sure know how to put us in our place, don't you?

The whispered "Alan"s turned in screams as Nico grabbed Alan by his hair and pulled him to his feet. Pushing a gun under the teen's chin, Nico screamed at Alan, spittle flying in his fury.

"What makes you worth saving, you little bastard?"

With a calm that was far from what his racing heart would have revealed, Alan showed nothing but disdain as he swore he would display no fear.

"I can assure you – my parents were married far before my birth. As for my worth, that only truly matters to those who love me. And when someone loves you like they do, that love is priceless."

"Those doctors at that fancy hospital in Springfield? They patched up Carlos and sent him to be raped and murdered in a prison for adults. He was only sixteen! Then they let Enrique die in your hospital room. They killed my blood to save you!"

Alan was completely confused – he had no idea what the mad man was talking about. But Tomo was far from clueless when it came to threats to his little brother.

"Enrique?" Tomo muttered before his eyes went wide. "Wasn't the real name of that gang leader - Enrique Herrera? The one they called Assenio?"

"Assassin?" Marco muttered to one of his friends. "Who calls themselves Assassin?"

"Probably someone who has killed people," the friend muttered in return. "And I think the latest kook is related to him so hush!"

"Assenio?" Alan paled. "He – he was going to kill me! He hurt my brother, John!"

"He didn't go there to kill you," Nico argued. "He was just going to kidnap you and get money from your father."

"Oh, so kidnapping a what? Fourteen year old boy was alright?" Charlie snapped in fury.

"Actually, I was fifteen by then," Alan said absently before turning back to Nico. "No, he may have headed there with the intent of kidnapping, but from what I could ascertain, he had just discovered his little brother's death so he decided to kill me and my doctor as well."

"Why your doctor?" Javier asked, drawing attention to himself. "Was he the one who had sent Carlos to the adult prison?"

"No, _**she **_wasn't," Alan explained with a small shrug. "Your buddy had already killed the doctor who had sent that guy to the wrong facility. No, Dr. Pierce was the wife of the cop who had arrested the kid."

"Nathan Matthews," Javier muttered, recalling the name of the officer who had told him and his father about his cousin/brother dying.

Kyle stiffened, recalling the name of his arresting officer as well before he smiled coldly. "I think we just found our contact person for law enforcement," Kyle murmured. Maybe if he got lucky, he would kill a cop today as well.

* * *

"OK," Don sighed as he grabbed his go bag and left the plane, closely followed by Agent Delgado. Feeling his daughter's best friend's eyes on him, he glanced at her as they quietly merged with the foot traffic in the hectic Logan Airport. "Is there a problem, Agent?"

Daria shrugged. "No – well, I am just surprised that the head of the FBI still has a go-bag."

Don smiled slightly. "I was an agent for many years, Agent Delgado. I am used to having a bag to run to the airport or jump in a car. Gotta say – it is useful when a last minute meeting or hearing occurs."

Shrugging once more, Daria stepped up to a courtesy booth where arrangements had been made for a vehicle to be left from the local FBI office. Picking up the keys, Daria led the way to the garage and once they found their SUV, she tossed their luggage in the back even as Don climbed into the car.

It was only when Daria was backing out after programming the GPS that Don spoke again.

"So…Did you and Kate create the Hackers Code?"

Daria kept her eyes firmly ahead of her, refusing to look at her boss. "Are you asking as the father of my best friend or as the Director of the FBI?"

"Huh, let's try as Kate's father."

"Sorry," Daria smirked. "Sisterhood rules – never yell or tell in front of any man."

Don rolled his eyes, knowing the agent had gotten that one from his daughter. "And as the Director of the FBI?"

"I believe I still have my rights against self-incrimination, sir."

Chuckling, Don leaned back. He already knew Kate was behind the Code – Charlie had discovered that long ago. But now he was sure that Daria Morgandorfer Delgado had also been involved. Now he KNEW it was a good thing the two young women had never been teamed up together.

He didn't think the intelligence community would have survived.

As they made their way from Logan Airport to the Boston Museum of Science, Daria asked, "Do we have intel on any possible perps?"

Don pulled out his i-Pad and began a review. "ATF witnessed two known gang members from Springfield enter the Museum – Nicolas Herrera and Javier Ramirez. Herrera is suspected of running drugs and weapons, following in the footsteps of his cousin, Enrique Herrera, aka Assenino. Javier Ramirez seemed to be a good kid, stayed out of the gangs, stayed in school until his father died right after his high school graduation. He's been picked up in some sweeps since then but if he did anything, no one can prove it. Any word from the Museum?"

Daria nodded. "I got a confirmation from the museum director, David Hendricks, that they cannot access the exhibit hall anymore and no one has been able to get anyone inside to answer. He also stated with 100 percent certainty the that the Wharton's group was in the exhibit when their guide came out and left them alone. Seems the graduate student doing the tour must have looked on the wrong website. Alan corrected him on some info and the kid was furious no one warned him that Jeff Tracy's son was in the group. Which, if he had looked at the list, he would have known, or at least guessed."

"Wait," Don protested. "Alan's name was on some list that anyone who worked for the museum could see?"

"The display doesn't open to the public until Sunday," Daria explained. "The two special showings – one for high mucky-mucks last night and the one for the Wharton students today both had to submit names for integrity purposes."

Shaking his head at the stupidity of bureaucracy, Don sighed. "Anything else I should know?"

"Kate has been having me keep tabs – off the record of course," Daria hastily added, "on a few persons of interest. You know who Kyle Westcott is?"

Don nodded slowly. "Charlie mentioned Alan using a program based on Charlie's backscatter work to help nail the kid for some wrongdoings that got him booted from Wharton's just before he would have graduated last year. I think he did some jail time."

"He did," Daria confirmed. "Westcott was recently paroled and now works at the Museum. Another POI, one Oscar LeGroux, is also there. Apparently, they also live at the same half-way house. Not sure if he is in on this but it is worth looking into."

Hastily looking up some files, Don rolled his eyes. "Seriously – the guy threatens a Thunderbird and he is already out?"

Daria gave a small smile. "Honestly, the way both you and Kate act so offended by that, you would think International Rescue was your family. I'd hate to see what you would do if someone threatened someone you knew and loved."

Don bit down any comment he might make, because today, that just might be a possibility. Then again, when the Thunderbirds were involved, it would be a fact.

Just then, Daria's phone rang. Pressing a button, she answered it via speakerphone.

"Delgado."

_"Agent Delgado, this is Bill Preston from the Boston Police Department. Mr. Hendricks said you called before we were even aware there could be a problem here."_

"We have some intel that indicated we could have a situation," Daria hedged.

_"Well, I just wanted to let you know – this could be getting worse. We still haven't heard from anyone inside and now we've heard a gunshot."_

Daria spared a quick glance to Don before switching on the siren of the official vehicle and lying on the gas. "Dammit," she muttered even as she began to weave through the busy streets of Boston. "I hate it when Eppsie is right."

* * *

Lieutenant Nathan Matthews, of the Massachusetts State Police, Violent Crimes Task Force, had just finished testifying at the State House when he received the message about a possible incident at the Museum of Science. Heading over to the scene, he sought out the officer in charge.

Raymond Hendricks had been thrilled to go from an Assistant Curator at the Smithsonian to the Head of the Museum of Science in Boston. Not only did it bring him back to New England –he was originally from Vermont – but while the MOS was not as prestigious as the Smithsonian, he was now the man in charge. And Raymond like being in charge. He liked being known as the man who arranged such a significant showing as "America in Space". While Raymond had been disappointed that both Jeff and John Tracy had turned down the private showing the night before, he had been thrilled that Jeff Tracy's youngest boy, Alan, was in the group of school children having the separate private showing today. He had planned to give the tour himself, but had been caught up in a budget meeting.

And now this! The door was locked, the access tunnel was secured from the inside and no one was answering the calls through the door, it seemed as if something bad had happened.

"I was hoping that some of the children were just fooling around," Hendricks groaned to Sergeant Preston.

"Well, I would think with that gunshot, any chance of that has been eliminated,"Preston mused.

"Do we have any idea what precipitated this?" Nate asked. "Or who? Is this a kidnapping or a terrorist act?"

"Can it be both?" Preston said thoughtfully.

"It may have an employee being involved," Hendricks admitted.

"Why would you say that," Preston asked, trying not to grin when he saw the Statie nod in approval at the question. Although both law enforcement officers had thought that would be a distinct possibility, it was good to get another's take on it.

"We have metal detectors at all entrances," Hendricks explained. "But the one for the employee entrance is right next to the loading dock. And a delivery truck hit it last week, so it is down and awaiting parts."

"Can you think of any employees that could have a grudge against either the museum or Wharton's?" Nate asked.

Hendricks shook his head, making Nate sigh as he pulled out his phone. "Can I get a list of your employees – and not just the ones scheduled for today? Any employees."

Hendricks nodded before pulling out his own phone to draw up and exchange the information. He quickly sent the information to Nate who looked over the list and began to curse.

"Kyle Westcott is working here?" Nate groaned.

"Who's Westcott?" Preston asked.

Looking at his own list, Hendricks said quietly, "He is with TJS Foodservice– they hold the contract for our cafeterias. TJS employs some ex-convicts who are on parole and living in half-way houses. But they are always considered low-risk employees and we have never had a problem before. In fact, once their paroles were up, several current Museum employees were hired by us from that program."

"Kyle Westcott went to prison last year, partially based on evidence gathered by a fellow student at Wharton's – Alan Tracy," Nate sighed. "So he kinda hates the school and he definately hates Alan. In fact, he was involved in an attempt to kill Alan a couple of years ago. At the time, it was believed that he was a dupe who allowed the would-be killer on campus access but knowing what we do now, it seems a lot less likely he was just a gullible horny kid."

"So Alan is in more than a bit of a risk?" a new voice queried.

The three men turned around to see a stoic looking Jeff Tracy watching them carefully.

"Crap," both Nate and Hendricks muttered.

* * *

Alan looked around the exhibit hall carefully before edging towards Marco.

"Marco," he whispered, keeping half an eye on the masked gunmen. They were on the other side of the room, blocking the door and arguing amongst themselves. Once he was sure he had the Freshman's attention, Alan gestured with his head to the mock up of a space capsule.

"I want you guys to be ready. In a minute, I want you to get the other students and start to slip behind the exhibit. Looking at it earlier, I saw that the first doors are wide open – just blocked visually by the capsule. Once you are in the access tunnels – run. Don't walk, don't stop, just run. The doors are probably locked from the inside but they wouldn't have any key codes, so it is probably just a deadbolt."

When Marco looked to argue, Alan held up a hand. "No. Look Marco – you are important to us," he gestured to the gathered "adults". "You are important to the school but -"

"We're mainly scholarship students," Marco sighed. That meant no rich, important parents.

Alan grimaced. It was a bitter pill but unfortunately it was the truth. "We can stand up to them better if we don't have to watch you guys. To them, you would be nothing but collateral damage – tools to be used and disposed of to show they mean business."

"How do you plan on distracting them?" Tomo asked, edging over to Alan.

Alan sighed. "You aren't going to like it."

Tomo was sure he wouldn't.

Alan stood up and began to walk over to gunmen. Nico whirled around and pointed his semi-automatic at the teenager.

"Don't be a hero," he hissed.

"Not trying to," Alan shrugged. "But you won't get what you want unless the right people know what you want. There is no land line in here and I have to presume you only have regular phones, no satellite, tight? Regular cell phones won't work in here – too much interference. But this one," he explained as he pulled out his own state-of-the-art phone, "will work anywhere on the planet."

Nico snatched it out of Alan's hand before tossing it back. "It doesn't work," he grumbled.

Holding out the phone, Alan pressed his thumb to the phone. "Fingerprint recognition technology. This will work now," he said casually.

"Nice toy, pretty boy," Nico chuckled as he played around with Alan's phone.

In the back of the room, Marco led the Freshmen through the back of the display while the gunmen's focus was on Alan. The two professors, alerted to Alan's plan, nodded quietly as the younger boys all disappeared. In less than two minutes, the ten students were gone.

Alan was carefully keeping the focus on himself, but noted that one of the gunmen, the quiet one that he had heard the more threatening Hispanic call "Javi", glance over towards where the captives were. For a moment, Alan was sure the game was up but then Javi relaxed and looked over at Alan with what seemed to be approval.

"So you going to call someone or admire my phone some more?" Alan snarked, trying not to cry out when Kyle grabbed his left arm and twisted it cruelly.

"They don't have to know you are alive to pay us for you," Kyle growled.

Pulling away, Alan rubbed at his arm. "Yeah, well it will help."

"Fine," Oz agreed. "But no one said you had to be in perfect shape. In fact -" he drawled before he punched Alan in the face.

Tomo cried out and ran across the room, heedless to any danger to himself. Only the gun pointed at Alan's head stopped him. Alan glanced over his shoulder, his right cheek already beginning to swell and his lip bleeding, before shaking his head at Tomo.

Grinning, Oz used Alan's own phone to snap a picture of the teenager. "That should light some fires," he crowed to his co-conspirators. Looking past Tomo, he frowned when all he saw was the two professors.

"Where are the rest of the kids?" Oz whispered. Becoming furious, he shoved his gun with excessive force into Alan's throat, making it hard for the teenager to breathe.

"What have you done? Where are those kids? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

Nico pulled Alan from the floor even as he holstered his weapon. Pulling out a knife, he pressed it against Alan's bruised windpipe before gesturing to Kyle and Oz. "Check the hall – they can't have gone far."

The remaining hostages stayed still as the gang leader continued to threaten Alan. When Kyle, who had found the same access tunnel that Alan had noticed, then came running back, pale and angry, he glared at Alan before he explained what he had discovered.

"They must have gone down the access tunnel. The door was unlocked but I re-secured it. Even put a pole there to make sure no one can pick the lock without us hearing them."

"Had to be the hero, didn't you?" Nico hissed, pulling the knife from Alan's throat to rest it against his face. "Pretty boy had to play hero. I do need you alive at the moment but maybe I should make you not quite so bonito. What do you think of that, eh pretty boy?"

* * *

**_A/N - There...Charlie was shot but it was a flesh wound. You ever want some serious Charlie whump, read Serialgirl's "Bird Flu"._**


	7. Chapter 7

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - See ch 1 - 6. **_

_**Hope I answered all reviews. Between work, weather, family (Mom needs surgery, helping her with that and countless other things) and ANOTHER HEAD COLD...But hope an early update helps you.**_

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_"Kyle Westcott went to prison last year, partially based on evidence gathered by a fellow student at Wharton's – Alan Tracy," Nate sighed. "So he kinda hates the school and he definitely hates Alan. In fact, he was involved in an attempt to kill Alan a couple of years ago. At the time, it was believed that he was a dupe who allowed the would-be killer on campus access but knowing what we do now, it seems a lot less likely he was just a gullible horny kid."_

_"So Alan is in more than a bit of a risk?" a new voice queried._

_The three men turned around to see a stoic looking Jeff Tracy watching them carefully. _

_"Crap," both Nate and Hendricks muttered._

Nate recovered the fastest. "Mr. Tracy," he said firmly, holding out a hand to shake. "It's good to see you again but I wish we could stop meeting like this."

"No kidding," Scott muttered as he rocked the double stroller back and forth. Nate looked down to see the two napping toddlers.

Leaning down, Nate couldn't help but smile. "Wow – Didn't know the Tracys were into cloning."

Sergeant Preston frowned before muttering "Huh?" in confusion.

Nate gestured at the two sleeping children. "Scott Tracy and his mini-me, with Emily Haas Tracy 2.0."

Jeff smiled down at his grandchildren. "Emily did leave her stamp on her daughter didn't she? And I think Jason is just following tradition," he shrugged, gesturing at his own first born/ look-alike.

Scott never stopped the rocking motion, even as he slipped into "field commander" mode. "Do we have eyes in there? Any idea who they are or what they want?'

"All good questions," a new voice broke in. Don Eppes and Daria Delgado stepped forward.

Jeff quickly did what introductions he could. "Lieutenant Nathan Matthews, Massachusetts State Police, this is FBI Director Don Eppes and Special Agent Daria Delgado. Agent Delgado worked the bank robbery case in New York two years ago when Alan and John were held hostage in the bank. Don, Agent Delgado, this is the officer in charge of Alan's hit-and-run case from – well," he sighed, "only a few months before the bank robbery."

"What drew in the FBI already?" Preston asked in confusion.

"One," Daria said cheerfully, "two of the suspected bad guys are gang members – the Blades out of Springfield. The ATF has been following them due to suspicions of gun running. Two – one of the chaperones on this trip was a visiting professor – Charles Eppes, considered a national treasure and a consultants to more government agencies than I can name – Literally. And Three…"

There she trailed off as she glanced over at Jeff and Scott who remained silent.

"Three," Don interjected, "his mother," he pointed at Jason, "is my daughter, Kate. And if we want to stop as much bloodshed as possible, we need to get these guys and get Alan out safely before she goes after anyone who hurts her baby brother."

Nate looked mildly bemused. "I thought Alan would be his baby brother," he gestured at Scott.

Scott shrugged. "Kate decided when she married me, she finally became a big sister. Alan is pretty much the only one she gets away with doing that. The others all just humor her."

"Ah," Daria said wisely, with the knowledge that came from knowing Katherine Eppes Tracy for five years. "They've seen her shoot."

Nate would have laughed if Don, Jeff and Scott hadn't been solemnly nodding.

"OK," Daria said finally. "Back to flyboy's questions." Scott looked mildly annoyed at her usurping his wife's nickname for him. "Any access to the security cameras? Any phone contact?"

Preston and Hendricks led them over to a computer terminal that had been set up in a mobile command center. "Someone tampered with the computers," Hendricks explained. "When we first couldn't get in, we tried looking at the security cameras and calling in – there is a phone in all of the exhibition halls, but they are discreetly hidden so as not to detract from the displays. But when the cameras were taken off line, they also disabled the phone. It was some sloppy hacking but it worked."

Daria sat down at the terminal. She began to enter commands only to groan in frustration. "We need a hacker – a good one. The two best ones I know go by the handles of Phoenix and White Witch."

Jeff cussed, shocking everyone. When they all turned to him, he sighed. "Phoenix would be unavailable. I'm not supposed to know this but that's Alan's handle."

"Seriously?" Scott gasped only for Don to chuckle.

"Damn," Don grinned. "I told Kate I had to pinch him for the FBI." Ignoring the glares from the Tracys at the idea of their baby being an FBI agent - _yeah, like International Rescue would be any safer – _Don asked his agent, "What about the White Witch? Did we ever ID him?"

"That would be her," Scott said smugly, seeing Daria wince at what was about to come out. "Or didn't you know _your _baby was a master hacker as well?"

"Well, since you sent her _out of town_," Don ground out, still worried about his daughter being up on a _freakin' space station, _"how do we handle this?"

"That should be easy," Jeff said calmly, pulling out his cell phone. Hitting a speed-dial code, he waited for a moment before speaking. "John, I need no questions. You have Kate's schedule – is she able to be interrupted at the moment." Nodding at his second son's answer, he spoke again.

"Tell Kate to get to an office with a secure link. I need her to conference in with the following number." Jeff leaned down and rattled off the number Daria had written on a piece of scrap paper.

"Thank you, John. Yes, I'll explain everything. Elizabeth? Oh, she's napping at the moment. Lunch? I may have gotten her a Happy Meal. Yes, I will be the one to tell Emily but it was either that or Scott's cooking. Yes, I agree – the lesser of two evils. Tell Kate to call back ASAP, ok, John?"

Hanging up, he gestured to Daria. "You'll have Kate's services within five minutes. And yes, it is from a secure link and has the best equipment the government can't afford."

Nate bit back an entirely inappropriate smile. Damn, when the Tracys got their juices up, they really could move mountains. Now he could only hope the mountains didn't fall back on all of them.

* * *

"Had to be the hero, didn't you?" Nico hissed, pulling the knife from Alan's throat to rest it against his face. "Pretty boy had to play hero. I do need you alive at the moment but maybe I should make you not quite so _bonito._ What do you think of that, eh pretty boy?"

"Nico!" Javi yelled, grabbing the gang leader's arm. "No! Beating him up a bit is one thing, but I've seen you lose control when you start cutting and like you said – you need him alive."

Nico stepped back and Alan slumped to the floor as soon as he was released. Glaring first at Alan and then at Javi, Nico hesitated a moment before swinging out his arm and backhanding Javi to the floor.

"**_Never _**show me such disrespect again, Javi. Guys like you are a dime a dozen – I can replace you like _that,_" Nico growled with a snap of his fingers. "I am giving you a chance to answer the cry for your family's spilt blood – or do you not respect Angelo's death?"

"Angelo died getting hit by a truck, Nico," Javi insisted. "It wasn't this boy's fault."

"The rich have everything and we have nothing," Nico snapped. "Blood will answer for blood."

Turning back to Alan, Nico kicked him savagely in the hip, causing Alan to cry out in pain.

Ignoring any risk to himself, Tomo growled, "Stop it!" and ran to Alan's side.

Glaring at the two boys on the ground, Nico snapped, "Get the pretty boy out of the way, China-man."

"I'm Japanese, idiot," Tomo snapped right back even as he tenderly helped Alan to his feet. Keeping himself between the gang leader and Alan, Tomo cast one last glare as he led Alan back to where the two professors had tensely been waiting.

As soon as Alan was place on the ground, Charlie was quickly examining him. "How are you feeling, Buddy?"

"Been worse," Alan groaned slightly, gingerly moving his right hip. Seeing the disbelief on the professors' faces, he grinned as much as his rapidly bruising face would let him. "Seriously – you should have seen me after the hit and run."

"I did," Tomo sadly answered. "But I didn't have to watch as that happened."

"Wish you had," Alan muttered. "Would have gotten to the hospital a lot faster, remember?"

"Idiot," Tomo chuckled as he ruffled Alan's hair, gently feeling for any head injuries while he was at it.

The four huddled together even as the other group of four argued amongst themselves. But silence became the tone when the Air Force anthem rang out from Alan's phone.

"Scott," Alan sighed, not sure what the result of this would be. But if his big brother was here, he already felt a bit safer. Glancing over at Tomo, he squeezed his arm. Technically, Alan already had a brother here. But this he knew was true…

Scott was a lot scarier.

* * *

Nico looked down at the phone in his hand when it began playing some weird song – seriously, what was that? He only slightly glared when Kyle reached over and pressed a couple of buttons, not only answering the call but placing it on speaker mode.

"Yeah?" Nico drawled in what he presumed was a tough voice.

On the other end, Scott was not impressed. Seriously, when you have been up against The Hood, some street scum like this was nothing.

_"Who is this and why do you have Alan's phone?"_

"Never mind who this is – who are you?"

_"I asked first."_

Alan chuckled at his brother's answer until Kyle stalked over and grabbed him by the hair, pressing the gun to the back of his neck. Looking over and seeing that, Nico smirked.

"You a Tracy – cause the pretty boy thought your answer was amusing until we pushed a gun into the back of his head."

There was dead silence for a moment before Scott responded, his chilling anger actually worrying all of the bad guys.

_"You listen to me – yes, I am a Tracy. The name is Scott Tracy and that is my baby brother you have in there. You hurt him, and there will be no place on this Earth for you to hide. You kill him? I will track you down and tear you to pieces so small, the best forensic minds in the world wouldn't be able to put you back together."_

"You think you are in a position to threaten me?" Nico hissed. He had been sure the Tracys would be cowering, he held all the cards.

_"I don't threaten," _Scott calmly said, his calmness being more worrying than his anger. _"I say that as a vow of honor – and unlike you, I hold my honor and family highly."_

"I'm doing this because of family," Nico screamed. "You rich bastards – they save your brother but let my family – my cousins Carlos and Enrique – die! At least Enrique died fighting. But Carlos? Carlos was just a kid, just sixteen! And they let him be raped and murdered. Pretty boy never had to worry about anything like that, did he?"

"Like hell I haven't," Alan yelled back, only to choke off when Kyle pulled him back.

Tomo moved forward protectively, only to be stopped by Kyle's gun. Glaring at his former classmate, Tomo then turned to Nico. "It's true. When Alan and his father were being held by a couple of nut jobs in Mr. Tracy's office, one of the scums actually tried to…well, he had a history of sexual offenses."

"That wasn't the only time," Alan muttered, falling back down when Kyle suddenly released him. Looking over at Tomo, he murmured, "Holly Brook."

Tomo pulled Alan into his arms, rubbing the younger boy's back in a calming motion. Ignoring their captors, he grimaced at the confused looks on the professors' faces before explaining.

"Alan's last boarding school."

"Was that the one where he blew up the chemistry lab?" Charlie asked in confusion.

Tomo nodded. "His chemistry teacher he – well, he was making moves on Alan. Kid was barely fourteen and he didn't understand at first what was happening. By the time he was becoming uncomfortable his family just said he was looking for excuses, and it was because he didn't want to be there. The day of the accident – and it was an accident," Tomo stressed, "the teacher actually tried something – nothing too seriously, but enough to freak out Alan pretty badly. He was shaken and distracted and didn't notice his Bunsen burner wasn't working correctly. When he did, he got the rest of the class out before the explosion but…"

"When Dad picked me up two days later, he was mad," Alan said softly. "He had already talked to my teacher, who told him I had been daydreaming but not to hold it against me. Dad wouldn't listen and the other guys just…" Alan's voice drifted off as he buried his head in Tomo's chest.

"They teased him about it. No one was listening to him. Even Fermat was mad because he had liked the school but his father had decided to pull him out to keep him with Alan when Alan transferred to a new school. I only know because -"

"Because I was having panic attacks when I started at Wharton's," Alan interrupted. Grasping Tomo's arm, he worried his lip. "I've known Tomo since I was little and he's always been a good listener. So I told him everything."

"So what?" Kyle snarled. "So someone felt you up? That is your trauma? How would you deal with it if no one had saved you? If there was no one to protect you? It's not fair!" Kyle screamed as he yanked Alan from Tomo's embrace and raised his gun. "You get protected, you get saved. But no one saved me!"

Before anyone knew what was happening, Oz grabbed Kyle from behind, hissing, "Not yet. Money first, payback later."

Throwing Alan back to the marble floor, Kyle stormed back over to where the two gang members stood. Snatching up the phone, he yelled, "Twenty five million dollars and you – yeah, you, Scott Tracy – as our personal pilot on board Tracy One to the country of our choice. Alan will go with us and we'll release the others at the airport."

With that said, Kyle hung up the phone but sent a text to Jeff Tracy using Alan's address book – a text with the picture of Alan – to what he was sure would be a panicking billionaire, ensuring they would get their money and get it quickly. Slipping the phone into his pocket, he smirked. Alan wouldn't survive the flight – and neither would his big brother. What they didn't know was that he could fly as well, although he had never gotten his pilot's license. When they dumped the bodies of both Tracy sons, it would be somewhere no one would ever find them – and that would be the best revenge of all.

* * *

_**A/N - Yeah, more agnst. And Kyle is really becoming unhinged. More as soon as I can. - CC**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - see chapter one. Or Chapter two. Or...you get the picture.**_

_**One of the best reviews came over last chapter. But it was an anon. So I couldn't answer. But - for this series, SeaQuest isn't an option. No Frankenstein. Sorry. That was a fun series to write and the first time I suggested a trauma of this nature for Alan. The actor who played Alan was in a movie where he suffered a much more severe if similar trauma and I thought it was handled well.**_

**On with the show...**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Jeff found himself feeling faint, barely recognizing when Daria gently took him by the arm and let him sit on a chair in the mobile command center. Pulling up a stool, she sat in front of him, rubbing his hands – cold with shock – until she got his attention.

"Alan never told you?" Daria asked softly. "About what happened?"

"No," Jeff replied softly, catching his firstborn's eyes, his heart sinking at Scott shaking his head, making him painfully aware that Alan hadn't told any of his brothers either.

"Kate told me that you made sure Alan didn't go back to that school because of what happened," Don said in confusion. "I am guessing you didn't mean the pervert teacher."

Jeff was silent for a moment before responding. "The school was quick to lay full blame of the accident on Alan's shoulders. Even I did," he morosely added. "But Jake – Jake Getty – an old friend, one of my lawyers and Alan's godfather, held me up when I just would have cut a check like the school was demanding. Jake insisted on the insurance company investigating. They did and they found faulty equipment and lack of proper supervision was more at fault. He even implied to the school that I could sue for endangering Alan – as could all of the other parents. After that, the school offered to take Alan back. I refused, because I didn't like that they had been willing to use my son as a scapegoat."

"Have you ever told Alan that?" Don asked gruffly.

Shaking his head, Jeff sighed. "No, I don't think I have. I guess I didn't want to bring it up and risk an argument. Maybe I should have. Maybe then Alan would have been willing to tell me about what had happened."

"How many other kids has that creep abused since then?" Daria muttered before standing. "Excuse me - I need to make a call."

Nate glanced at Daria, now on the other side of the command center, talking softly but with agitation to someone on the phone.

"Who is she calling?" he murmured not realizing he had spoken out loud until Don answered.

"Her first assignment was working with sex crimes," Don responded. "Agent Delgado hated it – so did Kate – but she kept the contacts."

"Speaking of Kate," Scott murmured, as a vid-call came in.

"So?" Kate demanded, eyeing her father and husband. Scott nodded slightly to let her know the hologram program was working perfectly while Don's surprise at the sight of Kate dressed in a business suit sitting in a book-lined office made it clear he would want an explanation later.

"We've spoken with the hostage-takers," Don said calmly, even as Daria rejoined him. "They are demanding twenty-five million dollars, and a flight to a non-extradition country." Don wisely chose not to add that they wanted his son-in-law as the pilot, something sure to set his daughter's temper off.

Seriously, he had no clue where she got that from.

Glancing at her father-in-law, Kate asked, "Dad – um, Dad Tracy," she added when both men looked at her. When Jeff nodded, she continued.

"Do you want me to arrange the funds? If they want cash, I can supply non-detectable tracking devices. If they want it in a bank, I can attach a Trojan horse virus that will make sure they never see a dime."

"White Witch rides again," Daria murmured with a smile.

"Watch it Dorf, or I'll park my broom where the sun don't shine," Kate snarked.

"They can have whatever they want," Jeff said sadly. "I just want Alan back safely."

As Kate glanced at the others, three discreet nods told her to have both solutions ready. Any further discussion was halted when Jeff pulled out his phone, freezing when he saw who the text was from. Opening it up, he looked sick and then handed the phone to Don.

Seeing the teenager's face, obviously fresh from being viciously struck, Don's expression turned to stone. Placing a supportive hand on Jeff's shoulder, he quickly gave the phone to Nate – and away from Scott – before speaking.

"We'll get him back, Jeff," he softly assured him before they both glanced at their respective children. "And you two – keep the bloodshed to a minimum.

Seeing that Jeff and Don were determined not to let them see what they saw, Kate quietly hacked her father-in-law's phone, biting her lip before forwarding the text to Scott. Seeing the anger flash in her husband's eyes, Kate nodded slightly before turning with a small smile.

"Define _minimum," _Kate said with false sweetness.

Daria shook her head. "OK, Eppsie – let's get to work. We need eyes in the exhibit hall. You can tear off heads later – let's get the hostages out safely first. And save some heads for me to crack as well."

Kate shrugged again before she began to work her magic…

* * *

Charlie watched Alan carefully. The boy was very upset, and he knew from what Kate said that Alan had suffered some flashbacks from the incident at his father's office – and now Charlie knew why. Compounding the traumatic experience was the unresolved issue of what had happened at his old school.

Gently placing his hand on Alan's shoulder, Charlie smiled at his nephew-by-marriage. "You know, when I first went to Princeton, some TA made the mistake of thinking I was, oh, how did the little jerk phrase it? – oh, yeah: Fresh Meat. My mom kept me away from him and Larry – you remember me talking about Larry, right? Well, Larry barely knew me then but he made sure that _person _learned their lesson. He also finished his studies abroad as he found himself quietly black-balled from any elite university in the States."

"I've always wondered," Alan softly worried, "if it was something I said or something I did."

"It wasn't your fault, Allie," Tomo said fiercely. "None of it was. And before you say anything, none of this is either."

"I swear," Alan muttered. "The last few years I have felt as if I have had a target on my back."

The others in the group didn't say anything. Alan had hit the nail on the head with that one. Now they could only hope the nail didn't hit back.

* * *

Marco Valestro pushed his way through the crowd surrounding the Museum of Science. He absently saw one of Boston's famous "duck boat" transporters be turned away from the entrance to Science Park, the access road from the Museum. With the news vans setting up for remote broadcasts, one would swear the roadways were jammed all the way to the Charles River.

It wasn't until he and his companions – none of the other Wharton Boys were willing to miss this either – were almost to the Mobile Command Center that had been set up by the State Police that they were finally stopped.

"Listen kid," a Boston uniformed officer said in exasperation, "I don't know how you got away from your school group, but the Museum has been completely evacuated. Sorry your field trip got ruined, but this is work for the big boys, ok?"

Rolling his eyes just as he had seen Alan do when he was annoyed, Marco stepped forward.

"And you listen – officer," Marco hesitated, tempted to use a less honorable phrase. "We need to talk to the officer in charge. We were in there."

"A lot of people were in there," the officer said patiently.

"Were a lot of people in the room with the gunmen before one of the other hostages risked his own safety to provide a distraction to let us get out?" Marco snapped.

The cop went pale, finally taking note of the groups Wharton uniforms. "Um, wait here."

A woman came up behind them, grabbing Marco by the arm. "What's your name, kid?" she hissed.

Marco looked at her in disdain. "What's it to you?"

"I'm Ana Nevada," she smiled. "Surely you've heard of me?" she asked with a toss of her hair.

"Nope," Marco sneered.

"Listen kid, I am a famous journalist. Now, was Alan Tracy really in there? Is this all to do with America's most famous family? Were your lives put at risk because Jeff Tracy can't protect his own son?"

"Are you trespassing and past the barrier established for the media, Ms. Utah?" Daria asked as she came back with the police officer from before.

"It's Nevada," Ana hissed.

Daria shrugged. "Nevada, Utah, Montana, Oklahoma – not my scene. Too wide open – like your mouth. Now back off, before I arrest you. And I assure you, I will make sure the charges stick. You'd be amazed what I can slip in under the Patriot Act."

Ana glared at the agent that she recognized as being the one from the bank robbery years earlier.

"This is not over," she regally said.

"It better be," Daria said coldly.

Watching until the journalist stalked off, Daria smiled at the boys. "So – you got out. Good. The fewer people we have to rescue, the better the odds. Can you tell me who is still in there?"

Marco nodded as Daria led him and the other students to the far side of the Command Center.

"Alan – that's Alan Tracy – is there. The guys with the guns seemed to know him. Tomo Wattamee is in there. I never really knew him, but I know who he is, since he used to go to Wharton's. In fact, Mike here," Marco gestured at another student who waved slightly, "is in his old room according to Alan. Professor Gunderson and Professor Eppes are in there as well. Are you gonna be able to get them out?"

"We're going to do everything we can," Daria assured them.

Marco glanced over at the other people gathered around some computers before his eyes were drawn to three men in particular. One had steel gray hair and dark eyes – that was one scary looking dude. Only the way the officers around him deferred to him put Marco at ease. This had to be one of the good guys.

Seeing Marco gaze go astray, Daria looked behind her before turning back to him with a smile.

"That's Don Eppes – he's the Director of the FBI and one of the most decorated agents ever. He'll help get everyone out."

"Those two," Marco pointed at the Tracys, "they're Alan's dad and one of his brothers, right?" When Daria nodded, Marco finally smiled. "Then it's gonna be alright."

"How do you know that?" Daria asked, curious why the boy thought two business men were more of a defense than a legendary FBI agent.

"Because they're Alan's heroes," Marco said simply. "And if Alan has faith in them, I know they'll make everything alright."

And as much as the words, having drifted over to the Tracys, warmed their hearts at the knowledge that Alan thought that highly of them, another part of their hearts were broken at the idea that somewhere along the way, Alan had learned that as much as he adored his family, he couldn't trust them. Not if he had kept a secret like this from them.

* * *

"So…" Oz mused as he looked at a still smoldering Kyle. "Prison was a bit rough?"

Kyle laughed with no real humor. "Rough? The freakin' public defender told me I was lucky, they were only putting me in medium security. He couldn't swing a minimum security because I had the drugs on school property. It was an automatic upgrade."

"Why did you have a public defender?" Javi asked. "I thought your father had money."

Shaking his head, Kyle sneered. "Old man had me disowned before I was indicted, forget convicted. Jeff Tracy would do anything to protect one of his five sons – my father couldn't wait to wash his hands of his only son." Gesturing to Alan, he bit out, "Both of us were mistakes, but the Tracys would never admit that."

"I told you before," Alan said calmly. "My family always called me the best surprise they ever got. You can't blame us for that."

"Sure I can," Kyle chuckled. "See – your parents met mine when my mother was pregnant. Only she didn't realize she was. Something about "not all the signs being there". So when mother-dearest collapsed and the doctor who examined her said she was pregnant, your big mouth mother blurts it out in front of the rest of the party guests. Guess she didn't get the clue that mommy didn't know, so she is quick to assure the old man that his wife and baby are just fine. With that, they didn't think they could get a discrete abortion. So mom had me, then promptly dumped me on a nanny the day we both came home. She took off for a six-week stay at a spa to get her figure back."

"So you lost out on decent parents," Alan shrugged. "Listen, that sucks. But you are the one making the choices – not them. You could have been a better person to spite them, show that you are above them."

"Won't have to show them anything," Kyle assured him. "Can you just imagine how humiliated they will be? You know those snot-nosed brats you snuck out of here will have ratted me out. Its gonna be all over the news channels. Mommy and Daddy will be mad…" he sang, laughing strangely, making Alan wonder how much of his sanity Kyle had left behind prison walls.

Looking at Alan coldly, he sneered, "I'm willing to bet everything about me will be on the news. The CPS reports from Chicago, my arrest here, my lovely time as a guest of the state – including the times I spent in the infirmary, recovering from some "playtime" with a few of the "not high risk" offenders. Of course, for "privacy" reasons, they won't give all the details. But they'll hint at enough. Although that may just make Dad even more certain he was right to disown me."

Glaring at Alan again, Kyle bit out, "It wouldn't have mattered once. Since I was eight, I knew I had someone who loved me. But the Tracys cost me that. They cost me the one person who loved me and would have protected me. If the deal hadn't fallen through…"

Turning to Charlie, he raised his weapon. "In fact, your family took that away from me as well. Maybe I should be doing something about that as well…"

* * *

Kate hurriedly typed another line of code before she grinned. "Gotcha," she murmured in satisfaction.

Daria looked up from the reports she had been reading. "Find the backdoor?"

"Oh, yeah," Kate muttered before she crowed. "I am the greatest!"

"And so modest," Scott murmured to his father, who barely acknowledged it, focusing on his two grandchildren, quietly playing on the floor at Jeff's feet.

Kate glared at her husband. "Oh, well, considering the system was tampered with – and not cleanly – the fact that I can get in and establish a connection from – a, um, significant distance...I am very good. Not that you will know anything about that anytime soon."

Daria smirked, sure her friend was not talking about hacking skills.

"Yes, well," Don blustered, also aware just what Kate was talking about. "How about some imagery, Katie?" _Other than the one I want to gouge my eyes out over. _

Kate pressed a few buttons but her smile quickly turned to a look of horror. One of the gunmen – at this point she couldn't be sure, although as she quickly entered details – hair color, height and weight, Kate knew she would know all the players shortly – as the man played with the gun in his hand, bouncing it slightly as if readying himself to shoot.

"Sound, please, Kate," Daria said with a coolness that was far from what she felt at the moment.

While they waited for audio, Daria took notes and sent a message to Kate. The woman looked up at her briefly and nodded in agreement before she continued with her work.

"What?" Nate murmured as he leaned over Daria's shoulder.

The FBI agent said nothing, handing a piece of paper to him. The police Lieutenant's eyes went wide when he saw the hastily sketched diagram – along with identification of everyone in the room.

"She's good," Nate muttered.

Don nodded, his eyes hard as the sound started, but having first answered the cop with "They both are."

Nate frowned as Kyle Westcott's voice could now be heard over the speakers. "_I'm willing to bet everything about me will be on the news. The CPS reports from Chicago, my arrest here, my lovely time as a guest of the state – including the times I spent in the infirmary, recovering from some "playtime" with a few of the "not high risk" offenders. Of course, for "privacy" reasons, they won't give all the details. But they'll hint at enough. Although that may just make Dad even more certain he was right to disown me." _

Kyle stared at Alan in hatred as he continued._ "It wouldn't have mattered once. Since I was eight, I knew I had someone who loved me. But the Tracys cost me that. They cost me the one person who loved me and would have protected me. If the deal hadn't fallen through…"_

To the concern of everyone there, Kyle suddenly whipped around, raising his gun to Charlie._ "In fact, your family took that away from me as well. Maybe I should be doing something about that as well…"_

Kyle released the safety on the weapon and pressed it against Charlie's chest. _"You may have some connections but how much are they really worth? Why should you even be left alive?"_

_"__Stop it!" _Professor Gunderson cried out, stepping forward to protect his friend. _"Mr. Westcott – Kyle – please, you must see this is wrong. What happened to you was tragic, but hurting these people will do you no good."_

Nico stepped forward. _"But we also must show we are serious. We must show that we have nothing to lose if we don't get the money. Now – we were gonna throw out some of those kids – not sure in what condition, but we would have thrown them out. But Pretty Boy here ruined that. So how do we show what our intentions are now, hmm?"_

Holding his gun out, Nico said in a sing-song voice, "_Eenie-meanie, miney-mo, my mama said to choose – YOU!" _

The final word of Nico's song was punctuated by the loud retort of his weapon, quickly followed by the sickening thud as a body hit the floor.

* * *

_**A/N - Sammygirl1963 says you will be mad...I say you'll understand. In fact, I am thinking of taking a few weeks off...wadda ya think? CC**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - Not mine - not Thunderbirds, not Numb3rs, not Daria and - since someone picked up on Marco's name - not Cake Boss. Home sick, so consider my bad luck, your good - here is a chapter.**_

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Gordon sat back down in the co-pilot while John flew Thunderbird Three. Usually, Sarah Jane would be flying – even pregnant, she was capable of piloting Three – although Emily would not sign off on her doing that once she passed into her second trimester, in less than a month. Unfortunately, she had discovered, halfway into flying up to get John that her morning sickness had evolved into space sickness.

"How is Sarah Jane?" John said absently as he flipped a switch.

"Nausea is abating," Gordon responded. "I contacted Emily, she said that she'll probably have to ground Sarah Jane, regardless of the fact that she is in her first trimester.

John nodded, Emily had doubted letting Sarah Jane do anything for the Thunderbirds beyond working Command and Control. But Sarah had insisted that if she were still in the Fire Department, her duties might be modified, but she would be allowed to continue in the field if she wanted to for her first trimester.

"It makes sense," John sighed. "She can't be the primary pilot on Three if she is running the risk of nausea and dehydration." Glancing briefly at his brother, John added,

"Speaking of making sense, when are you going to?"

Gordon looked puzzled, trying to figure out what John could be talking about. His mind whirled until all that came out was an inelegant, "Huh?"

"Tomo," John said simply. "He's Alan's best friend and your attitude stinks."

"Fermat is Alan's best friend," Gordon snapped. "Tomo is the guy trying to force his way into our place in Alan's life."

John shook his head. "Gordo – Alan will never stop loving you, you are his big brother. And yes, Fermat is a great friend, but the two of them haven't been spending as much time together in the last couple of years. Tomo has been able to be both a big brother and a great friend. Alan tells him stuff that he is afraid to tell us."

"No," John said when Gordon would have interrupted. "I wasn't listening and you three were making fun of Alan – how much did he not tell us? I feel like we missed a huge chunk of Allie's life. I even made jokes to Dad about "Hurricane Alan", and never questioned what was bothering him. Just from a few things Alan has let slipped...I think we had really screwed up. Tomo was there for Alan when he needed it the most and we should be thankful he was."

"You don't get it, John," Gordon groaned.

"Maybe," John firmly said. "But think about what you have to do."

Gordon grinned. "I rarely do what I have to; I prefer to do what I want to."

John rolled his eyes. "And you wonder why you are the only Tracy son not in a committed relationship," the blond sniped.

Gordon just shrugged. Even though one girlfriend – Lisa – had died in a bomb blast at Tracy Towers, she had been one of his few relationships that had lasted more than a few weeks. For the most part, Gordon wasn't looking for Ms. Right, as much as Ms. Right-Now. He thought about making a smart-ass comment to that effect, but then he noticed the look on his brother's face.

"What's wrong, John?" the red-head asked.

"I tried to check in with Kate," John said. "But I got back a message saying that she was busy."

"A mission?" Gordon questioned, looking at the readout and seeing that they were less than ten minutes out from base. It would be annoying to head out so quickly, but they could do it.

John shook his head. "No, Virgil would have contacted us by now. Something is wrong."

Gordon took a deep breath. He knew John was right – something was really wrong, his Tracy Sense was screaming. John and Virgil were ok, that left Scott and Alan. And if it were Scott, Kate would have contacted them, telling them to get back there and bring her home.

"Alan," Gordon breathed out, not realizing how much the name now sounded like a prayer.

* * *

Alan's eyes were wide and filled with tears as he looked at the body on the ground. He attempted to throw himself at Nico and only the two sets of arms that wrapped around him tightly stopped him.

"Why?" he screamed. "He didn't do anything to you! He was of no threat to you at all. Why did you have to kill him?"

Charlie held Alan as close as he could, trying to calm the teenager down. "C'mon, Buddy," he murmured in Alan's ear. "You can't do him any good by getting yourself killed. Calm down, please!"

Tomo pressed the side of his face to Alan's. "Please, otouto – I couldn't take it if…Please."

Alan looked down at the body of Professor Gunderson, tears of loss and anger pouring down his face. Even the Hood hadn't been this psycho…

"Why?" Kyle shrugged. "He was expendable. We need to keep you alive until we get to the plane, then you have to play nice if you want to live. You two?" he gestured at Tomo and Charlie. "You have some valuable contacts, so I'm sure between the State Department and all those lovely Government Agencies, we'll see plenty of co-operation in us leaving here."

Kyle pulled out a piece of paper with numbers written on it and tucked it into the professor's coat pocket. Gesturing at Javi and Oz, he watched as they started to move the body towards the door. Using Alan's phone again, he once more sent a text message – this time to Scott Tracy, since he suspected big brother was close by. When he finished, Kyle looked up at Nico.

"Cover the door," he said calmly even as he pulled Alan roughly from the grip of the others. Yanking Alan's hair back in a painful grip, Kyle shoved the muzzle of his weapon under Alan's chin. "I just made it clear that we are sending out where to send our reward to – and that if anyone tries to use the open door, Baby Tracy here will be the first to die."

"Well," Kyle smirked at the body of the late educator, "I guess he'd be the second."

Releasing most of the weight of the body back to Oz, Javi reached out and flipped the lock, slowly opening it…

* * *

In the Command Center, the group watched in horror as the person Daria had labeled as Nicolas Herrera coldly gunned down Bertrand Gunderson. The Tracys in particular held their breath when Alan became hysterical, only the fierce grips of Charlie and Tomo stopping Alan from getting hurt worse.

Watching as the scene unfolded, Don wondered if Scott could handle what was going down. Placing a calming hand on his son-in-law's shoulder, Don murmured, "Keep calm, Scott. We're going to get him out, I swear."

Scott glared at Don before he snapped, "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Before Don could answer, a plaintive, "Daddy!" was heard. Scott turned and smiled at his son, picking the one-year-old up and cuddling him close. Eyeing the Wharton's students at the back of the group, Scott moved over to them.

"Have they arranged to have someone pick you up?" Scott asked Marco, who had assumed a defacto-leadership role in the group. Alan had spoken highly of the Freshman and Scott was beginning to see why.

Daria answered instead, however. "I'd rather keep them here. The media would eat them alive."

Scott just smiled. "Any of you got any baby-sitting experience?"

Several of the boys either raised their hands or murmured affirmatives. Nodding, Scott handed his son to Marco even as Elizabeth toddled over to demand attention as well. "Consider yourself hired," Scott joked lightly.

The group nodded and pulled the toddlers aside to a small corner. Between the toys the two had in their bags and a blanket provided, they had soon made a mini-daycare for the Tracy Grandchildren.

"They're used to being passed around the family as needed," Scott said absently as he returned to the monitor. He grimaced when Kyle Westcott grabbed Alan to use as a hostage, happy now that he assured that the children – both the high school ones and the pre-pre-school ones – wouldn't be seeing what was going on.

"There is probably banking info on the paper in the professor's pocket," Don surmised. "Lieutenant, make sure your people know to hold back – we don't need some cowboy scaring these guys and risking the remaining hostages."

"Will do, sir," Nate said sharply, leaving to address the officers involved.

Daria watched both Kyle and Alan and came to a conclusion. "Alan," she murmured.

"What?" Scott asked.

"He doesn't look scared," Daria responded, gesturing at the screen.

"He looks pissed," Kate answered for the family.

"I'd rather he looked scared," Don sighed. At the annoyed look from anyone named Tracy, Don explained. "Scared people don't get as reckless as a pissed off one. Add to that he's only eighteen? At that age, boys can be a bit impulsive."

"At any age boys can be impulsive," Kate muttered. This earned her glares from the men and a chuckle from Daria.

"So what do we do now?" Kate finally asked her father.

"Wait, Katie-Bear," Don sighed again. "We wait and be ready to move at the slightest glimmer of opportunity. They don't know we have overridden their blocks, that we have eyes and ears. Do some brainstorming," he said to his daughter and agent. Daria and Kate nodded, with Kate accessing plans to the exhibit hall and the museum in general – Daria knew better to ask where she had gotten them from – and downloading them to Daria's i-Pad. The two began to send messages back and forth as they tried to figure out anything that would give them a tactical advantage,

They were gonna need every one they could get.

* * *

Charlie leaned back against the wall where he was sitting, trying to hold onto Alan. He absently noticed Tomo rubbing Alan's back. The professor was more than aware from Katie's stories about the Tracys that this was how Scott and John would calm a little Alan, something that Tomo must have picked up on over the years.

Wincing, Charlie rubbed at his stomach. Breakfast must not be agreeing with him, he could never recall having a case of indigestion this bad. It had started as dull ache in his chest but was now wrapping around his torso.

Pulling out a handkerchief, Charlie mopped his brow, trying to calm his breathing. If they – well, the rest of them at least – were to get out of this alive, Charlie needed to keep his head.

Gently patting Alan's arm, Charlie gave the boy a shaky smile and tried to hide his ever increasing discomfort.

* * *

Alan noticed somewhere in his mind that Charlie and Tomo were trying to keep him calm, trying to keep him from absolutely freaking out. But it wasn't helping.

He couldn't believe they had killed Professor Gunderson. Alan knew that there was evil in the world – he had experienced it enough. But still, most of the time, even murder made sense in some sick way.

In the back of his head, Alan could hear Kate talking about it when he was researching a paper for criminal psych portion of his psychology class.

_"Sadly Alan, most of the time, murder makes sense. Murder is usually for a reason. People kill for gain or they kill for a perceived injustice. They kill because someone has something they want – a car, money or the love of someone they feel were denied to them. They kill because the person cheated on them or ignored them or slighted them. But there is almost always a reason."_

_"What about when there is no real reason?" Alan asked._

_Kate sighed. "Then the reason is a love of power – the power that making someone afraid gives them. If you talk to most serial or spree killers, they will tell you that. They get off on the power of seeing the fear in their victims' eyes. Many of them also enjoy the fear they generate in the community, the continued suffering of their victim's family or friends or making people doubt that law enforcement can stop them before another victim is culled."_

_"Culled?" Alan said, startled. "That's a weird word to use, isn't it?"_

_"What does cull mean, Alan?"_

_Alan looked thoughtful. "Well, you can cull something from data, picking the best facts to present a theory or case."_

_"Or?"_

_"Well," Alan mused, "you can also use the word to explain pulling a weak or sick animal from a herd or flock in order to promote a stronger breed."_

_"Some killers feel that they are making the world a better place – in their mind at least – by killing those they see as inferior to them in some way. Gender, race, sexual orientation, profession, religion...it doesn't matter what. They will kill someone who they see as unacceptable and expect praise for it."_

_"It still doesn't make sense to me," Alan sighed as he wrote down some notes._

_Kate smiled sadly as she ruffled Alan's hair. "And I hope it never does make any sense to you, Kiddo. You deserve better than that."_

Leaning his head back against the wall, Alan fought back tears once more as he thought, _"It still doesn't make any sense to me, Kate. No, no sense at all."_

* * *

Nate slipped forward, eyeing the Boston Police who were covering him. Two masked men – he wished Delgado were here to tell him which ones they were – opened the door and began to push the dead body of Professor Bertrand Gunderson out into the hallway.

As if thoughts of her had brought the agent to his side, Daria Delgado tapped Nate on the shoulder. Glancing at her, the police lieutenant nodded, giving silent approval to whatever Daria had in mind.

Daria stepped forward slightly before speaking, absently tugging on her windbreaker with the FBI marked boldly across the back.

"Javier Ramirez!" Daria called out, knowing she was right when the slimmer figure on the right froze. "Why not come out all the way with Professor Gunderson's body? You have no record, and even your tie to the Blades is tenuous at best. We can work from that."

"Shut up, Bitch," Oz growled. "We don't have to listen to some stupid bitch who should be home taking care of babies, instead of taking jobs from men."

"Really, Mr. LaGroux?" Daria smirked. "Is that the best you can do? After all, wasn't it a female Thunderbird that helped lead to your incarceration? Besides, after your stint in prison – not something that would be easy for a former member of law enforcement – I would wonder if Bitch has a whole new meaning for you."

Oz grabbed the body and held it up even as he gestured to Javi to move back inside. Raising up his weapon, he used the cadaver as a shield while he fired off a shot, hitting Daria in the chest, throwing her to the floor next to Nate. Shoving the body into the hallway, Oz quickly closed and relocked the door, ignoring the chaos from the security of the sealed exhibit hall.

* * *

_**A/N - And another one bites the dust?**_

_**BTW - Daria is NOT completely an OC. She had her own show as a teenager. Mom said I reminded her of Daria. A LOT. Here is her graduation speech - you tell me.**_

_**(After accepting an academic award) - Um, thank you. I'm not much for public speaking. Or much for speaking. Or, come to think of it, much for the public. And I'm not very good at lying. So let me just say that, in my experience, high school sucks. If I had to do it all over again, I'd have started advanced placement classes in preschool so I could go from eighth grade straight to college. However, given the unalterable fact that high school sucks, I'd like to add that if you're lucky enough to have a good friend and a family that cares it doesn't have to suck quite as much. Otherwise my advice is; Stand firm for what you believe in, until and unless experience proves you wrong. Remember, when the emperor looks naked, the emperor *is* naked. The truth and a lie are not sort of the same thing. And there is no aspect, no facet, no moment of life that can't be improved with pizza. Thank you.**_

_**I could have written that quote.**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - nope. Sorry this got out later than I planned but my muse was magically hijacked and imprisoned by Harry Potter and Castle. **_

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

_A couple of minutes earlier_

Don stood back, slightly grumpy, wanting desperately to be in the thick of things as the Massachusetts police lieutenant and several Boston police officers got into position, knowing that the door would be opening.

Suddenly, Daria was pulling on a windbreaker and zipping it up as she passed by Don, making him frown in consternation. There was no need for her to advertise that she was FBI – everyone there knew it. And it wasn't even that cool, so the jacket should actually be slightly uncomfortable today.

"Agent Delgado?" Don questioned as she hurried to catch up with Lieutenant Matthews.

Daria shot a grin over her shoulder. "Just need to check something out, sir. I'll be right back."

"OK, that is the same grin Kate has when she is up to something," Scott murmured, eyeing his wife on the monitor, more than aware the two had been sending coded messages back and forth.

Kate did indeed give the same grin. "Just a little re-con," she shrugged. "Dorf will be fine."

"Since when did you become an optimist?" Scott muttered.

"I haven't," Kate answered. "But I am a pessimist who makes a plan for all foreseeable outcomes."

Don shook his head. Retirement couldn't come too soon.

* * *

Nate watched in horror as the masked gunman that Agent Delgado was referring to as LeGroux raised his weapon and got off a shot before anyone could stop him. When Delgado dropped back to the floor – no, was thrown back to the floor – by the force of the bullet, Nate grabbed the fallen agent under her arms and pulled her back around the corner.

"Nate!" a voice called out that initially made the cop wince before relief flooded him.

Shana Pierce dropped to the other side of the FBI agent, looking her over quickly even as she pulled open her medical bag.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you, honey," Nate sighed, "but what the hell are you doing here?"

Looking up at her husband, the doctor gave a shaky smile. "I had to transport a patient to Mass General. I called your office when I got here – I had hoped you were still at the State House and I could catch a ride with you. The chopper I rode in here was having engine problems and you know how I hate riding the train."

Daria stirred and tried to sit up, only for both Shana and Nate to push her back down.

"I'm fine," she muttered, irritable.

Don ran up, kneeling next to Shana. "What the hell happened?" he barked, motioning Scott to stand back when his son-in-law would have moved closer.

"Someone," Nate snapped, "thought it was a good idea to provoke a gun-toting lunatic. Or maybe the lunatic is the one who got shot."

"I'm fine," Daria growled, trying once more to sit up.

"Listen, you," Shana snapped in return, not realizing how much she sounded like her husband. "I'm a doctor and not too bad of one, if I say so myself…"

"Honey," Nate grinned, "according to the Harvard Medical Review, you are one of the top five trauma specialists in the world."

"Yeah," Shana growled, "number three. Em got number two."

"So try harder next year and let me get up," Daria tried again.

Don reached forward and pulled open the agent's windbreaker, sighing with relief when he saw the vest. "You're wearing."

"Duh," Daria groaned.

"That was point blank with a semi-automatic pistol," Nate argued. "Even with a vest, you probably have cracked ribs at the least." Looking at Shana he was encouraged at her nod. "The shooter -"

"LeGroux," Daria interrupted.

"Whatever," Nate said. "He was what? Ten feet from you?"

Daria shrugged as she forced herself to sit upright. "Probably more like twelve or thirteen, max. And one vest probably would have still seen me on medical leave." Shrugging off her jacket, then the vest, she patted the second vest underneath. "Kate suggested the second vest. Something about the jerk having issues about women being in positions of authority and not to take a chance."

Shana removed the second vest and examined the area where Daria had been shot. Looking up at Don and Nate she shook her head in amazement.

"Some bruising is possible and it may hurt a couple of days, but besides that she will be fine."

Don reached out a hand and helped pull Daria to her feet before he began to admonish her. "Take a chance like that again, Agent, and I will have you written up so fast your head will spin. Now come on back to the command post – we need to review some data and I need to have a word with Kate."

"Kate?" Shana asked as she prepared to follow the group. "As is Kate Tracy, Em's crazy sister-in-law?"

"As in my daughter," Don growled.

Shana paused for a second before she continued to follow. "And now I can see where Kate gets her charming personality from."

* * *

Alan jumped to his feet in panic at the sound of gunfire, but was quickly held back by Tomo from doing anything.

Before either could react, the pair saw the two who had been dragging Professor Gunderson's body out to the hallway jump back into the room.

"What the hell was that about?" one of them yelled, shoving the one who had done the shooting up against the wall.

"Who the hell do you think you are, you wetback?" the shooter said in a dismissive tone.

Nico strode forward and pushed the gunman down – hard. "Watch who you call a wetback, or we will be dumping another body."

Kyle snapped, "You two wouldn't be in here if it wasn't for us."

Alan could hear Nico lean down to – what was his name again? Ravi? No, Javi – and ask if he was alright. Javi nodded and growled back at Kyle, "From where I am at, I am wondering if that would not be such a bad thing." Turning to his compatriot, he explained, "The Wizard here just shot an FBI agent point blank in the chest."

Shaking his head, Nico ticked, "Oz, mi amigo – I told you, you only kill who I say you can."

Alan looked at the group and didn't realize the sound of disgust he had made until Nico turned to the teenager and glared. Quickly moving to him, Nico shoved Alan into the wall and pushed his gun into Alan's stomach, driving his breath from his body. When Alan was helpless, Nico growled, "And has the pretty boy got something to say?"

"Just that you're stupid," Alan gasped. "A very public kidnapping? Coldblooded murder? And now you shoot a federal agent? Massachusetts may not have the death penalty, but if the agent dies, the federal government can call jurisdiction and they do have the death penalty. And thanks to Professor Eppes' status as a government consultant, they may even consider this a terrorist act. Welcome to Homeland Defense Act of 2020…You're busted six ways to Sunday."

Nico just sneered at Alan before shoving him back onto the floor, but Tomo was relieved to see Oz was now nervous and that Kyle and Javi looked worried. It had been one thing starting this but now they wondered if every federal agency would be after them.

Glancing over his shoulder, Nico saw the concern in the eyes of his cohorts. With a last look of disdain at the remaining hostages, he stalked back over to the others.

"We'll get the money from the pretty boy's family, then we'll keep them with us until we get to the airport. We let the other two go, we get on a plane, we head to someplace warm, welcoming – and without any extradition. Just keep it together, and we'll be happy." Looking at the group, he nodded at Javi. They had discussed it earlier – none of the hostages would know them for sure, so if they wanted to, they could probably get back into the country at some later point. Westcott would probably have to stay and Oz was questionable.

But looking over the two ex-cons that had helped make this all possible, Nico wondered if he wouldn't be better off getting rid of those two as well. The destination he had in mind, deep in Central America had family of his – and they had long worked for the cartels down there, assuring they had the skills and knowledge of how to make someone disappear permanently.

* * *

Virgil and John both held their wives' hands, watching the news in growing horror. Gordon kept stalking from his spot behind the couch to the windows as if the peaceful ocean could wash away the horror story playing out on live television.

_"The FBI, Massachusetts State Police and Boston PD have issues a joint statement, assuring us that they are working in seamless unity to resolve this hostage crisis," _the reporter said with appropriate solemnest.

_"While no official confirmation has been given on identities, word that a professor from Wharton's School for Boys near Springfield, a senior year student, a former student and a visiting professor are still being held has been confirmed. A source has told us that ten 13-14 year old students were rescued with the help of one of the other hostages, but at what price is unknown."_

The reporter – the name running under said Sasha Saccetti – began to ramble on about the Museum itself, what a shame that such a family centered spot was becoming the scene of violence…

Gordon looked up as a red-eyed Tin-Tin came into the room. "Mother called, she and father are on their way home."

John nodded before Emily looked up in alarm. "Wait – Onaha is gone? I thought she had the kids."

Virgil shook his head even as he rubbed Sarah Jane's back in an attempt to keep her calm. "No, Scott had a meeting in New York so he took the kids. Said it would give Dad a break, letting him spoil the kids while Scott met with the development team."

John frowned. "Dad had me set Kate up for a teleconference a little while ago. You don't think…"

Emily jumped up and glared at the television. "Yes, I do – and John, you are about to become the oldest Tracy son!"

The Tracys all looked back at the screen, a glimpse of the command post showed two men in dark glasses talking in a doorway. They all recognized Scott and strongly suspected the grey haired man was Don Eppes, Kate's father.

"He brought my daughter to an armed stand-off?" Emily screeched.

"And he probably brought his son as well," Gordon argued.

"Not helping, Fish-face," Sarah muttered.

_"Breaking news," _the reporter said breathlessly. _"Our sources are telling us that one of the hostages may have been killed and the body dumped by a gunman who has now fired on law enforcement."_

In the background, the Tracys could see Don and Scott run into the building the mobile command was parked next to.

Sarah finally said what they all were thinking. "How incredibly selfish am I for praying that if a hostage is dead, it's not Alan?"

Virgil just pulled his wife closer and kissed her forehead as they all became lost in thought, the fear of losing Alan first and foremost in their minds.

* * *

Daria let Don help her into a chair while she breathed deeply, easing off the second vest completely.

"I'm alright," she sighed again, wincing slightly at the tender spot where she had been "shot" acknowledged where the bruising would soon be appearing. "Tony is going to have my head on a stick."

"Tony?" Nate asked as he finished giving out another assignment to several officers.

"My husband," Daria groaned while turning back to the monitor, wanting to review some facts with Kate.

"Yes, someone was crazy enough to marry her," Kate said cheerfully as she came back on the screen.

"I could say the same thing," Daria growled, "if said crazy person wasn't in the room with me."

"And the crazy person might agree with you sometimes," Scott groused only to have his father-in-law glare at him.

"And if you hadn't gotten my daughter pregnant -" Don growled.

"And we were already engaged when we found that out," Kate interrupted.

"Are they always like that?" Shana muttered to Nate only for Jeff to sigh.

"Pretty much."

Jeff's answer made the Don, Kate and Scott all glare at him before he was literally saved by the bell. He quickly answered his phone, only to sigh again.

"Virgil. Yes, it's true." Jeff covered the mouth of the phone to mutter to Scott. "It's on the news."

"No, Virgil, I don't think any of you should come out. We have Kate on the vid, Scott is with me and Don Eppes and Daria Delgado are representing the FBI. Oh, and you remember Nate Matthews? He is here – What? Oh, yes, the babies are with us and -"

Jeff suddenly went still. "Oh, hello Emily. Yes, we brought the babies with us. A few of the boys from Wharton's are watching them. Uh, no, Emily...Well, you see, Emily..."

Shana grabbed the phone from Jeff's hand. "Damn it, Em – stop being a pain in the ass. I'm here, your daughter and nephew are well in hand. So stop being a bitch when you know your father-in-law has to be freaking out at this moment in time."

Handing the phone back to Jeff, the doctor smiled. "I think Dr. Tracy would like to apologize."

As Jeff continued to talk to his sons and daughters-in-law, Don eyed Nate. "OK, I am impressed."

"At Shana?" Nate asked.

"Nope, you," Don grinned. "That is one scary woman there. Reminds me of my own wife."

"And I am so telling Mom you said that," Kate sniped as she tried to adjust the angles of the cameras outside of the exhibit hall for additional intel.

"You think after this many years of marriage I haven't told her that – a lot?"

Kate shrugged. He had – she had heard it said, sometimes rather loudly. But her parents had always made up, and she had usually hid out at her Grandpa's while they did. It was less traumatizing.

* * *

Kneeling beside the three hostages, Kyle tapped each of them with his weapon. "I don't think you really understand the reality of your situation."

Closing his cobalt eyes, Alan rested his head against the wall. "We're stuck in a locked room with four armed men, of which only one may have a conscience." Opening his eyes, he glared at Kyle. "It's not you. You've hated me since my sophomore year and I never understood why. And now, I really don't care."

Kyle stood up and glared back at Alan. "I hated you before that. People like you make me sick. It's like you have angels watching you. My nanny used to tell me God sent angels to watch over good people and bad seeds like me were rejected. You were the sheep and I was among the goats is what the old bruja would have said. She always made these freaking biblical references, said there was nothing good in me if my own parents could see it even before I was born."

Tomo put a comforting arm around Alan, drawing the other boy closer, wanting desperately to protect his little brother from the madness that was showing in Kyle's face.

Charlie watched the two boys anxiously, the feeling of lightheadedness and nausea becoming worse and worse. He felt the pressure from his back and stomach now moving through his entire upper torso. Suddenly, he flashed back to when his father had his first heart attack...

"Oh, crap," Charlie thought in frustration. "Not now..."

* * *

_**A/N - Hmmm. Picked my daughter up Thursday...I need an expert opinion. ALAN!**_

_**Alan - Yes? Kinda busy here. **_

_**CC - Your not that tied up.**_

_**Alan - Maybe not literally. Now how what question did you have?**_

_**CC - OK, Thursday I picked my daughter up at school. High School lets out at 2:45, but her dental appointment on the north side of town was at 3:15 so I sent in a note (which I verbally confirmed later) that I would pick her at 2:30. So I walk up to the school, buzz to be let in and Janie - who had been watching from the office - comes running out. I asked if I didn't have to sign her out (like I had at her elementary and middle schools) she flashed a piece of paper, said it was an attendance receipt. She was all set. But she was in a hurry, which surprised me, as she wisely hates going to the dentist.**_

_**Alan - And?**_

_**CC - She was embarrassed to be seen with me! ME! You'd think I was an axe murderer.**_

_**Alan - Well, you aren't. At least not yet, though I guess we shouldn't encourage you.**_

_**CC - Still...**_

_**Alan - It's typical teenager stuff. Chill.**_

_**CC - You do that?**_

_**Alan - CC, I go to a boarding school. A dentist and doctor visit the school a few times a year for maintenance check-ups. Anything urgent or beyond basic maintenance and someone from the school drives us off-site. So when I get to see my father isn't for dentist appointments. **_

_**CC - Still put me in a bad mood.**_

_**Alan - Damn. That doesn't bode well for me, does it.**_

_**CC - (grins) Nope. No, it doesn't. Well, Happy Easter, Blessed Passover and OMG -it' April on Monday (hate that day. nothing but an excuse for bad jokes and cruel pranks). **_

_**Alan - Down girl. Grab a cup of coffee and get something to eat. **_

_**CC - (grumbling) Still not happy.**_

_**Alan - And I'll take my vitamins. I'll need them. Laters folks.**_


	11. Chapter 11

**The Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - I do not on anything including a nasty little Troll who called themselves "Ovid" and cowardly signed in anonymously. Hmmm. So you don't get why I 1)continue to write and 2)why anyone would want me to? 1) I write because writing is cheaper than therapy (which I recommend to you - the therapy not the writing since your insulting analogy makes it clear you would not succeed in writing). Not to mention, working two jobs, helping my recently widowed mother and being there for my husband and teenage daughter - my time is limited and I don't have to factor in drive time for my writing. As to the second question, why would others read what I write? Ask them...But I never understood the attraction of the teen vampire books (if the Twit-lite comments were not a clue). So - to each his own, and go bug someone else.**_

* * *

Chapter 11

Alan glanced over at his uncle-by-marriage. "Uncle Charlie?" he said softly. "Are you ok?" Grimacing, Alan shook his head. "Sorry, dumb question."

Charlie grimaced a bit himself as he wiggled in his spot. "I'm fine, Alan."

"Yeah," Alan said with a frown as he eased away from Tomo and closer to Charlie. "I can tell you a few times members of my family claimed that even through the blood."

Looking over Charlie, Alan's frown deepened. Sweat now beaded the top of the professor's upper lip and his skin had taken on a gray-blue tone. "Uncle Charlie," Alan said with a calmness he wasn't feeling. "Are you having any discomfort in your chest or abdomen?"

Knowing that Alan had been trained in field medicine for "the family business", Charlie gave a grim nod. "Yeah. Nausea, discomfort, trouble breathing – just like when my dad had his first heart attack."

"Heart attack?" Tomo practically squeaked, drawing the attention of the gunmen.

Javi moved over quickly and knelt down beside the hostages. "He is having a heart attack?" Javi asked with concern.

"All the signs are there," Alan said as he tried to ease Charlie back, loosening the man's tie as he did. Looking up at Javi, he added urgently, "We need to get him some medical attention."

"No," Kyle said coldly as he stood over them, having quietly joined the group and hearing what they were saying. "We're gonna call out there – make sure they know how urgent it is to get us our money."

"Are you nuts, Kyle?" Alan asked as he stood up, letting Charlie's weight be eased over to Tomo. "At the first signs of a heart attack, he needs medical attention as quickly as possible to ease the chances of it becoming more severe – or even fatal." Alan said the last three words as a whisper, not wanting to upset Uncle Charlie more.

"I'll make sure and tell your family that," Nico sneered as he grabbed the phone from Kyle's pocket. Glancing at Alan, he gave a good imitation of a shark as he grinned.

"Did you know your phone was still on when we were talking before? I am sure your hermano heard all about your tendency to attract perverts. Big brother must know there is just something weak about you, hey?"

Alan went pale as he knelt back down beside Charlie and tried to focus on the man. He had forgotten that Scott was on the other end of the phone and could hear everything. What must Scott think of him? Worse, what would the rest of the family say? Alan had not only not said anything to the school, he had never told his family, not wanting to shatter the fragile peace. But in the back of his mind, Alan felt overwhelming guilt at abetting a pedophile through his silence. Everything Alan had learned about people like that since then had both comforted and tormented the teen. It was nothing Alan had done that had drawn the man to molest him. But with the rare exception of extreme preferential pedophiles, most offenders would not stop until they were caught. By not saying anything, Alan had allowed the torment that haunted him to be visited upon how many other young boys? He had kept an eye on the "good" professor – he still taught at Alan's old school. In the nearly four years since the lab explosion, how many others had there been?

The thought made Alan sick.

Worse – how would it make his family think of him? Alan vowed then and there that if he got out of this alive, he would make sure that his tormenter was known. No matter what it cost him. Thinking of his father, brothers and sisters-in-law, Alan swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise up at the idea that it could cost him the family he loved so much…

* * *

Emily sat down, worrying her lower lip but refusing to acknowledge when her husband sat next to her. After John put a comforting arm around her shoulders, the young physician muttered, "I wasn't being that much of a bitch, was I?"

"Yes, you were," Gordon snapped. Seeing the condemnation in the eyes of his brothers and Sarah was not as bad as the guilt in Emily's, making the red-head sigh.

"Sorry, Emily, but you were being a tad unreasonable. I can understand you're worrying over Elizabeth, but Scott would never put her or Jason at risk. If it was not a situation he felt the kids would not be able to be kept safe, he could have asked Anne-Marie to baby-sit. For now, don't give Dad or Scott a hard time and you can just plan a series of shots for big brother when he gets back."

"Shots?" John squeaked slightly, making Emily give a small smile.

"I'll make sure you are out of the room," Emily teased.

"Speaking of shots," Sarah warned as she rubbed her stomach, feeling the contents rolling with increasing nausea, "Kate might feel it's not your place to discipline her husband."

"Hey," Virgil grumbled, "You are acting like we are just a bunch of kids."

"You are," Sarah, Emily and Tin-Tin said in one voice, ignoring the baleful glares of the Tracy Brothers.

* * *

When Charlie made another slight sound of discomfort, Alan shook off his self-pity and moved back towards his uncle.

Taking Charlie's pulse, he glanced over at Javi, the only one he felt was being reasonable. "Can you grab my messenger bag?" he asked politely. "It's the dark brown one by the space capsule."

Javi went to grab the bag only to have Oz snag it from him.

"You idiot," Oz growled. "You wanna give him some kind of weapon?"

Alan rolled his eyes. "What kind of field trips did you go on as a kid? I just have some supplies in there." When Oz showed no sign of releasing the bag, he sighed.

"Just pull out the packet of aspirin and a bottle of water, plus a spare hankie," Alan finally said.

Opening the bag, Javi ignored the looks the other gunmen were giving him and removed the objects Alan had requested before handing them over.

Alan quickly removed the aspirin from their packaging and got Charlie to put them in his mouth before opening the water. Soon the pills were washed down and Alan was using the handkerchief to catch some additional water before placing it as a cold compress on the back of Charlie's neck.

"Try and relax, Uncle Charlie," Alan said gently.

"Will the aspirin help his pain?" Javi asked.

Alan shook his head. "That's not what it's for. Aspirin has been shown to reduce the damage from a heart attack if taken early, often saving the victim's life. And the compress is to get him to relax," Alan explained. Glaring at Nico and Kyle, standing to the side with the former still having Alan's phone, the teen snapped.

"But getting him out of here would help even more."

"If we let you talk to big brother," Nico smirked, "you make sure and tell him that."

* * *

The group in the command post had been busy – between coordinating additional data on their perps, examining the floor plans of the museum and dealing with the concerns of the Tracy family (mainly those NOT there) – they hadn't been paying much attention to what was going on inside the exhibit hall.

It was only as she tried once more to activate a mike on the camera that focused on the three hostages since it was the closest to them that Kate noticed that Charlie looked sick and Alan looked worried.

"Dorf," Kate murmured, not wanting her father to freak out unless he had to.

"Yeah," Daria muttered as she found a work order for the microphone that Kate had been trying to activate. It hadn't been tampered with – it just needed some parts…

"Lookie, lookie," came the soft response.

"Does your uncle have any medical conditions?" Daria whispered.

"Not that I know of."

"I think that may have changed," Daria said softly as she saw Alan give something to the older man that Charlie quickly swallowed.

"Darn it," Kate grumbled. "I can't hear what they are saying!"

"You could hear them before," Nate said, having come up behind Daria, drawing the attention of much of the remainder of the room.

"If they raise their voices or are closer to another sound source, I can hear them-" Kate started.

"But they are too far and speaking too softly," Daria finished.

As they watched, they could see Nico hit some buttons on Alan's phone.

"What does the jerk want now?" Scott grumbled only for his own phone to play the theme to "Speed Racer". Bracing himself, he prepared to answer as he muttered, "Show time."

* * *

Alan made himself comfortable between Tomo and Charlie, knowing that while both wanted to keep an eye on him, he needed to be monitoring his uncle.

Nico pressed the speaker button so that the call could be heard by everyone.

"_Tracy."_

"This is still Scott Tracy, yes?"

"_You know it is, you're using my brother's phone."_

Smirking, Nico looked at Alan before he spoke again. "Maybe your baby brother let me borrow it. Maybe it reminds me of my own." He frowned when Alan made a scoffing noise.

"_I doubt that. Alan is carrying a prototype of a phone that will be not be made available until August. There is nothing like it on the market at the moment."_

"The rich really are different," Nico hissed.

"_It's not so much about money than about technology and how to apply it. Alan, our brother John and a family friend designed that phone – he has one of the early models and has been helping work out the bugs. But I'm sure you aren't calling to be put on a waiting list for the phone, are you?"_

Kyle grabbed the phone and asked harshly, "Do you have our money?"

"_You didn't tell us how you wanted it? In cash when I meet you at the plane or in a bank account?"_

"The information was in the professor's pocket," Kyle snapped.

"_The professor's body is now in evidence," _Scott said calmly. "_I'll need the info – why not send out one of the hostages with it?"_

"You wish," Kyle muttered before he grumbled, "I'll text you the account number," he said as he stalked away, Nico following him.

While the two were distracted – Oz had wandered over to examine one of the exhibits – Javi moved quickly towards the hostages.

"He needs a doctor now, yes?"

Alan nodded. "We need to get him out of here."

"I'm not leaving you, Alan," Charlie whispered.

"Uncle Charlie," Alan countered. "If I am worried about you, Tomo and I can't make a break for it on our own. Please – let's get you out of here."

Charlie looked at the determined eyes of the three young men and nodded. He pulled out a business card and pressed it into Javi's hand.

"If you need help, call me, promise?"

Javi gave a smile that reached his eyes. "I will, teacher," Javi joked.

Glancing over his shoulder to make sure the others were still distracted, Javi helped Charlie to his feet and quickly guided him to the door.

* * *

"Kate," Daria said excitedly. "Do you see what I see?"

Up in space, Kate grinned. "Yup – Dad, you're gonna need to give Uncle Charlie a hand.

Don nodded, but seeing Scott and Nate Matthews still distracted, he motioned to Shana. "I think my brother will need medical attention," he said softly.

Shana followed Don, barely acknowledging when Jeff began to follow them as well.

"Maybe you should stand back, Jeff," Don said as they passed the entrance closest to the locked exhibit hall.

"You know darn well I am a trained medic," Jeff said calmly, glad for any kind of distraction.

Don eyed Shana in surprise, worried about the man making that kind of slip in front of the physician. Shana just grinned.

"Former rescue," she whispered. "And someone," Shana nudged Jeff, "didn't know I was awake and took off his helmet. When did you find out? Before or after the wedding?"

Jeff looked abashed when Don grumbled. "When Kate was giving birth and my son-in-law showed up in uniform."

Shana gave a small laugh, letting both of the older men glare at her. Then the door to the exhibit hall began to open and their focus narrowed to that one spot…

* * *

Javi gently guided Charlie to the door. "There should still be police officers outside," Javi whispered. "Do you think you can get to them?"

Charlie winced at the increasing pressure to his chest. "If I have to," he whispered back.

Glancing over his shoulder to where Nico and Kyle were tossing threats and insults at Scott Tracy via the phone, Javi muttered, "Oh, yes – I think you will have to do so and very quickly."

Placing his hand on the door, Javi unlocked it and began to ease it open, checking to make sure that Nico and Kyle were still distracted. But in his haste to get Charlie the help the older man needed, Javi had forgotten the fourth man in their group.

"Hey!" Oz snarled when he saw Javi begin to push open the door.

Alan and Tomo leapt to their feet, willing to cause a distraction if need be but while they were both fairly close to Oz, they were more than half the room away from Kyle and Nico.

"Javi," Nico hissed in anger. "Get back here with him now."

Shaking his head, Javi forced down the slight tremor to his voice as he said, "No, Nico – he needs a doctor and he needs one now. I will not stand by and let another man die for no reason. It is wrong and you know this."

Nico took several steps closer to Javi even as the other gang member opened the door and began to guide Charlie through it. "You cannot show them any weakness, mi amigo. They will exploit it, I can assure you."

Javi gave a sad smile. "It takes more strength to stand up to a friend than an enemy, Nico. I can assure you, I have always considered you a friend, even when I did not agree with you. This whole thing is madness but I will not give in to absolute insanity or needless cruelty."

"Bastard!" Kyle screamed as he raised his gun towards the doorway and let several bullets fly from his weapon. Both Charlie and Javi quickly fell to the floor in the hallway, rolling away from the opening.

Oz jumped towards the door, pulling it close and locking it once more. Raising shocked eyes to Kyle, the former lawman whispered, "Who did you hit, Kyle? What have you done?"

* * *

**A/N -See what happens when people get me angry? People get hurt.**

**Alan - You're still mad.**

**CC- Yup.**

**Alan - You still writing?**

**CC- Yup**

**Alan - Please, nice people - nice reviews.**

**CC - or at least constructive criticism and not showing you inner poodle.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - Don't own. Do have some AWESOME readers. Thanks. But I did find a use for da Poodle-Troll. It'll be coming up in a few chapters.**_

_**Had this chapter almost ready, decided to post since my time will be limited for the foreseeable future. My mom fell today and she needs surgery tomorrow. I only got home from the hospital a little after midnight and I still have to work tomorrow...Um, today. Anyhoo - here is the newest chapter. **_

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

Scott continued to glare at the phone in his hand, having increased the volume so that Nate Matthews could hear it. He had stepped further away from his father, not realizing that also meant he was further away from the two FBI agents as well, since Scott didn't know how much he wanted Jeff to hear.

"_So you sure you want wittle bitty wimpy Allie-poo back?" _a cold voice snickered. Scott recalled running into Kyle Westcott one time at Wharton's and recognized the voice.

"First off," Scott snapped, "Alan is anything but a wimp and you know it, Westcott. Second of all, Allie is a _**family **_nickname. You don't get to use it. Finally, yes – yes, I do want Alan back. He's my little brother, I love him and I am very proud of him. But you wouldn't know anything about family love and loyalty, would you?"

"_I may know more than you think," Kyle said cryptically. _

Before Scott could push for more, a loud "hey!" could be heard through the phone. "LeGroux?" he muttered, ignoring Nate's questioning look at how quickly he had identified the second gunman.

"_Javi, get back here with him now."_

"That's Herrera," Nate muttered, turning to watch the monitor and seeing Ramirez holding Professor Eppes, who looked to be ill.

"_No, Nico – he needs a doctor and he needs one now. I will not stand by and let another man die for no reason. It is wrong and you know this."_

Nate nodded. He knew Ramirez had it in him to be a good person, if they could just keep him away from the gangs as his late father had done.

"_You cannot show them any weakness, mi amigo. They will exploit it, I can assure you."_

"Come on, kid," Nate muttered as he absently wondered where Shana and Mr. Tracy had gone.

"_It takes more strength to stand up to a friend than an enemy, Nico. I can assure you, I have always considered you a friend, even when I did not agree with you. This whole thing is madness but I will not give in to absolute insanity or needless cruelty."_

"Atta boy," Scott muttered, holding out the phone. Maybe these guys could be reasoned with after all…Then he saw Westcott raise his weapon.

"_Bastard!"_

"Dammit!" Scott and Nate said at the same time as they ran into the museum.

* * *

Jeff and Shana tried to stay behind Don as the man was indicating but when Charlie and a masked man started to come through the doorway, both of them tensed up. They could hear a loud cry making it clear that one of the gunman's cohorts had noticed what he was up to but most of the remaining conversation was too muffled to hear until a loud cry of "_Bastard_" was followed by gunshots.

Charlie Eppes and the man who had been supporting him both fell to the ground before rolling away from the door. Absently, Jeff noticed another man grab the door and pull it shut. Jeff had been trying to peer into the room, desperate for the sight of his youngest son, but was denied that. He pushed his fear for Alan aside and leapt forward to pull the two on the floor away from the area around the entry point, in case additional bullets went flying and pierced the thick wooden door.

Shana dropped to her knees beside the two men, sparing Jeff a quick glance as she muttered, "You ok?"

Jeff nodded, helping to lay both hostage and gunman on the floor. "Blood," he muttered as he began to examine Charlie.

"Not mine," Charlie gasped, his eyes still closed. He opened them as he felt more than saw Don come up next to him. "Donnie," he sighed, reaching out a hand which his elder brother gladly clasped.

"Guess I should have listened to the doctor and gone for that cardiac stress test."

"It may not have done any good, Professor Eppes," Shana said, handing Jeff the blood pressure cup.

"Unless you were aware of a cardiac issue prior to this, it's more than likely this could have happened any time. I saw Alan Tracy give you something – what did you take?"

Charlie blinked in surprise, wondering how they could have…the gunmen had bragged about Kyle taking out the security cameras, giving them a tactical advantage. Then he smiled. Of course – Katie. Shaking his head, Charlie answered, "Just some aspirin."

"Ambulances on stand-by?" Shana asked, not surprised when it was Nate who answered.

"We've kept a couple here," Nate said as he began to pull supplies from Shana's medical bag as she asked for them.

"How is he?" he asked Jeff first.

"I'm awake, dammit," Charlie muttered. "It's a heart attack, alright?"

"You're not that kind of doctor, Buddy," Don said softly. "But we do need to get you to a hospital."

Charlie nodded as he tried to get a look at where Javi laid too quietly on the ground. "Is he even alive?"

"He's alive," Shana said grimly. "But if I can't get him to a hospital, I don't know for how long he will stay that way."

A uniformed officer chose that moment to guide a team of paramedics, along with two stretchers. Don looked torn about going with them when Shana looked up briefly from where she was trying to get the bleeding that three bullets had caused to the nineteen-year-old's chest under control.

"You stay here. I want them in the same ambulance so I can keep an eye on both of them. We're heading to MGH – I'll keep Nate in the loop, he can tell you."

Don just nodded as the two were loaded onto stretchers and hurried out of the museum to the waiting ambulance.

"MGH?" Daria said absently, even as she assigned two officers to follow the ambulance and stay with the two fallen men.

"Massachusetts General Hospital," Jeff answered his eyes still on the locked door blocking him from his son.

Daria nodded and pulled at Jeff's arm. "We need to get back to the command post," she assured him, making sure that Scott had his father in hand and out of the area. Nate followed behind them but could still hear the two FBI agents talking.

"You know things are either going to wind down or blow up now, right?" Daria softly said to her boss.

Don shook his head. "Yeah, I know. And the remaining two hostages' chances have just decreased incredibly. If they are willing to kill each other, they won't hesitate to turn this into a blood bath that no one will survive."

* * *

Alan leapt to his feet once more, horror having quickly been pushed to the side of anger.

"You nut job!" Alan yelled at Kyle. "What – he shows some humanity, something you are incapable of, and you have to shoot him? What the hell is your problem?"

Kyle whirled his gun to point at Alan. "You. You're my problem and if you don't sit your ass down and shut the hell up, this will be my solution."

Nico had remained silent. He had been upset the Javi had taken the professor and led him to safety. But Javier had always had a gentle heart, far too easy going for the gangs. It was why Nico and Assenio both had not pressured the boy too much to join the Blades. The excuse of his father not wanting the boy in the gang had been a face-saving excuse. Honoring the wishes of your elders was a viable reason. And once Javi's father had been dead, and the man's feelings were no longer relevant, Nico had guided Javi into the gang, wanting to protect the boy. He had even decided to leave Javi with his relatives in Central America if he wanted to – there were jobs, even educational opportunities, if you had the right connections in the cartel. Nico wanted those for Javi. The boy had once thought of becoming a doctor, having a doctor obligated to the cartel or even the Blades would have been good.

But this snot nosed punk had destroyed that. Nico kept his feelings from his face but his eyes briefly flared with hatred. Kyle Westcott had killed someone under Nico Herrera's protection and he would die for that. Looking over at Alan Tracy, Nico felt a small flare of anger at him as well. Once more, this boy lived when someone more worthy of life had died. Alan Tracy would die for that sin as well.

* * *

Shana climbed into the waiting ambulance, maintaining pressure of the worst of the three bullet wounds. Glancing up at Nate, she nodded. "I'll call you once I know anything," she said, even as she bit out commands to the paramedic treating Charlie.

Once Charlie was loaded into the ambulance with Javi and Shana, Don pressed a card into the paramedic's hand. "Tell the doctor on call to let me know what is happening as soon as possible. I have Charlie's durable power of attorney for health care. Tell them to call Cedar Sinai in LA and speak with Dr. C. Edward Eppes – that's Charlie's son and he will make sure all of his father's medical records are forwarded, as well as some of our late father's. We were warned that some of Dad's cardiac issues could be hereditary."

The medic nodded briefly. Patting Charlie on the shoulder, he finished hooking up the older man to the ekg machine. "Name's OC Thomson, but you can call me Tommy."

Charlie nodded, he was having some more trouble breathing and really just wanted to get to the hospital.

"Pushy guy," Tommy said with a grin. "Let me guess – big brother?"

Charlie gave a small smile and a nod, before Shana snorted.

"What?" Tommy said innocently.

"I've heard stories how bad you were with Woody," Shana said even as she began to pump more plasma and opened the saline drip to increase the flow.

"Woody?" Charlie found himself murmuring.

Shana gave a small smile before she refocused on her patient, but still continued speaking.

"Sarah Jane Woodbury – and yes, she is now Sarah Tracy. She and Tommy here were legends among the Fire Department here in Boston. They were considered one of the best teams – ever."

"Yeah," Tommy sighed. "Then the kid had to go and fall in love with her childhood friend. Not someone who would keep her in Boston. Nope – gets dragged half way around the world."

"They have a good reason," Charlie muttered before freezing, vaguely wondering if the medication had loosened his usually sharp mind.

Shana and Tommy both glanced at the professor who had quickly closed his eyes to avoid further discussion. Then they looked at each other in suspicion before returning to their tasks at hand, both thinking the same thing.

"_Someone else knows the Tracys are the Thunderbirds?"_

* * *

Daria looked at the monitor, becoming concerned at how threatening Kyle was acting towards Alan.

Glancing over at Don, Daria became firm. "We need to open communications as soon as possible. That room is becoming a powder keg and if we don't do something soon, all there will be is bodies to pick up afterwards," she said softly.

Don nodded slightly and Daria pulled out her own phone to call the number she had scribbled down in front of her.

Inside the hall, Nico pulled out Alan's phone again when it rang. He glanced at Alan, curious why the teen looked surprised.

"Who is this?" Nico asked, Alan having confirmed that he had personalized ring tones for just about everyone.

Alan shrugged. "It's playing "Who Are You" by the Who. That means the person isn't in my phone book."

Nico answered the call. "Yes?"

"_This is Special Agent Daria Delgado of the FBI."_

"Doesn't the FBI have any male agents?" Nico snickered. "Or is it you chicas stick together? Don't tell me – the FBI agent my friend here shot was your sister."

"_Actually, my sister is a regional manager for a retail chain. I'm the one LeGroux shot at. What can I say – he's a lousy shot."_

Oz looked furious. "I shot you – you went down hard, bitch!"

"_LeGroux, LeGroux, LeGroux…So many women to hate – and you can't kill any of us, can you?"_

Alan and Tomo snickered from the floor, Tomo stage whispering, "Man, if I didn't have a girlfriend, I'd be tempted. She should meet your sister-in-law."

Shaking his head, Alan whispered something in Tomo's ear, making him laugh. "I should have known!"

Kyle tried to redirect the conversation, snatching the phone away from Nico, he spoke in a pleasant, almost conversational tone. "Where's our money? I'm getting real impatient here."

Scott Tracy's voice was heard next. "_You need to cool your jets, Westcott."_

"Are you trying to piss me off?" Kyle snapped. "Get us the money or Alan will be paying a price more than money."

"_We are arranging the funds to be sent, but it will take time. That level of money needs to be processed differently. Why not show us some good faith and let me talk to Alan."_

Kyle voice had remained even yet took on a slightly threatening tenor. "Would it make you feel better if you could hear Alan's voice? Is that what you need, Scotty-boy?"

The people in the room could not see Scott Tracy – although Alan's phone had vid capabilities, he wasn't about to share that with his captors – but they could feel the anger in him building.

Back in the command center, Scott had to force himself to breathe, in and out, trying to calm his roiling emotions. He glanced over to where his son was playing, smiling slightly when the one year old looked up and smile at his father, waving the teddy bear he had been playing with. That baby was alright – now if he could only get their other baby back safely.

Nico glanced over at where Alan was sitting, a slight frown on his face.

"Youre hermano is worried over you," he said softly. "He will become irrational. Irrational men make mistakes."

Alan shook his head. "No – Scott will become pissed. And when Scott gets really, really mad, he doesn't blow up. He becomes the Ninth Circle of Hell." At Nico's puzzled look, he shrugged.

"Dante's Inferno? The Circle of Hell made of Ice, where Satan and the worst betrayers in history are damned for all eternity? You need to read some of the classics, dude."

Nico was starting to feel some of the worry Javi had earlier, wondering if in going up against the Tracys, he had bitten off more than he could chew. After all, if they had won against his cousin, what chance would he have?

Suddenly, Nico redirected his focus on the phone conversation when he heard Scott Tracy speaking.

"_Why not show us some good faith and let me talk to Alan."_

"Would it make you feel better if you could hear Alan's voice? Is that what you need, Scotty-boy?" Kyle stormed over to where Alan was sitting and raised his gun. "You heard Big Brother, Allie – he needs to hear your voice."

Before anyone, including Alan, could say anything, Kyle raised his gun and shot Alan point-blank.

* * *

_**A/N - Don't get mad, get even...and I will. Chaos and trauma will be coming up...eventually. Just give me some time. ~ CC**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - Don't own. And reviews - positive or constructive - are embraced. Haters are deleted as the trash they are."**_

**Chapter 13**

Thousands of miles from the Museum of Science, in Boston, Massachusetts, sits a beautiful island paradise that is the home of Jeff Tracy and his family. Usually, it is a place of relative peace (hey, they're only human!) and the occasional challenge (they are International Rescue). But at that moment, the very tense and worried family became more so when Gordon suddenly gasped in pain, clutching his right arm and falling to his knees in pain. His agony was clear in the whiteness of his face, which made it look like Elizabeth had once more found the marker and tried to make "polka-dots" on one of her uncle's faces (Scott was not amused).

Sarah, Virgil and Emily all rushed to his side, quickly checking his vitals.

"Yo, Nemo," Sarah said as she raised his chin to look in his eyes, worried about the slightly dazed look on his face. "What's wrong?"

Gordon shook his head as if he were trying to force himself awake from a bad dream.

"I don't know," the red-head finally answered. "I just – well, suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my upper arm."

Emily was rapidly taking her brother-in-law's blood pressure. "Your BP is up slightly, probably from the stress. But I can't find anything wrong with you."

John stood, pale and worried as he caught Virgil's eye. "Remember Allie's reaction when Gordon was in his accident?"

Gordon looked at his two older brothers. "He got upset when he saw the news."

"You mean when you called him," Emily corrected.

Sarah glared at her husband and brothers-in-law. "No, Alan saw it on the news beforehand. _Somebody _thought it was a good idea not to tell Alan right away."

Ignoring the evil eye his spouse was giving him – he and Scott had made that decision, one John, and later Sarah Jane – would express disappointment with – Virgil nodded. "Yeah, he collapsed in shock."

"He did?" Gordon said in a surprised tone. "You guys never told me that."

John just shook his head. "Sorry, Gordo – at the time we were more worried if you were going to live, and then I guess we put it out of our minds. But do you remember where Alan was at the time?"

Nodding again, Virgil thought back. "Wasn't he already in the infirmary? I think he had hurt himself…Huh. I can't remember how he hurt himself, it will be in his records…"

"Probably not," John said softly. "He was out playing soccer when he suddenly collapsed in pain. The ball hadn't hit him, no one was around him, but the school nurse said he was in pain, with most of it focused on his head and back. They couldn't explain it, but from the way Alan was reacting physically, it was clear that he felt the pain even if they couldn't locate the source." Glancing at Gordo, he gestured with his chin.

"Alan's pain was in the same areas where Gordon received the worst of his injuries. And he collapsed at the same time as the hydrofoil explosion."

Gordon rubbed his arm, remembering how when Alan was hit by a car, he had woken briefly in the night, feeling pain in his chest and head before the sensations faded, allowing him to go back to sleep after a grueling rescue. He hadn't connected it at the time and only recalled it now. Rubbing his arm, Gordon looked at his brothers and knew they were thinking the same thing…

What had happened to Alan?

* * *

Scott whipped around and looked at the monitor even as he clutched the phone so tightly, he could feel a slight crack in the casing develop. He didn't like the way this punk-ass jerk Westcott was behaving and had a bad feeling about this.

"Why not show us some good faith and let me talk to Alan," Scott said in what his brothers often described as "_I'm the big brother and I know what's best"_ voice. While that voice brought amusement to the Tracy sons, it infuriated Kyle.

"_Would it make you feel better if you could hear Alan's voice? Is that what you need, Scotty-boy?"_ In front of their horrified eyes, they watched Kyle storm over to where Alan was sitting and raise his gun. "_You heard Big Brother, Allie – he needs to hear your voice."_

Before anyone, including Alan, could say anything, Kyle raised his gun and shot Alan point-blank.

Sure enough, they heard Alan's voice.

"_Dammit!" _Alan yelped. "_Westcott, you are a complete and utter sociopath!"_

Scott looked pale and glanced over at Jeff, seeing his father's horrified expression even as he bitterly realized he had gotten what he wanted.

He had heard Alan speaking.

* * *

Back in the exhibit hall, most of the room – including two of the gunmen, were shocked by Kyle's actions.

Trying to hide his dismay at the rapid increase in violence from his cohort, the former lawman spoke first. "Now, wouldn't that be psychopath?" Oz said in a conversational tone, as if a teenage boy had not been shot right in front of him. Then again, it wasn't the first time that had happened today.

"No_," _Alan said through gritted teeth as Tomo yanked out his own handkerchief and wrapped it around Alan's upper arm. He pulled off Alan's school tie and used that to secure the make-shift compress. Alan nodded at Tomo, it was a through and through, not bad but definitely something to be treated by a doctor – if he lived long enough for that.

"A psychopath doesn't truly comprehend what he is doing is wrong. A sociopath knows and doesn't care. Wacko Westcott here thinks nothing of shooting people, even killing them. It's wrong, he knows it's wrong, he just doesn't care. Guess it's a matter of semantics."

"Eh," Kyle said as he waved the gun at Alan again, making Tomo tense, ready to defend his little brother if needed. "You'll live. But," he grinned coldly as he put the phone back up to his mouth, "I think Wittle Allie needs to see a doctor about his boo-boo. So you might want to hurry up with that money, Scotty-boy."

Hanging up the phone with no further words, Kyle leaned down and tapped the still-warm muzzle of his gun against Alan's chin. "By the way – I meant to only wound. Next time – I'll mean to kill."

Nico stood back, watching the scene dispassionately. Had Kyle killed or more seriously wounded their money-trap, Nico would have had to take action. But the boy would live a bit longer. The entire day had made Nico more curious about Alan Tracy.

The young blonde boy was a series of contractions, a – what was that word Javi had liked to use? Ah, yes – young Tracy was an enigma. He was born to wealth but fought like a street kid, refusing to back down. Alan was highly intelligent, athletic but compassionate. Most rich people put themselves first. Not Alan Tracy – he seemed to put himself so far down the ladder, it was almost sad. Nico wondered if the oh-so-perfect-Tracy family really was. Neglect could cause a young boy to act as Alan did. He was sure the Tracys loved the youngest son.

But was Alan sure of that?

Looking at Tomo, Nico felt nothing. He had never liked Asians, ever since that Korean grocer had smacked him when he was six. So what if he was shoplifting a deli sandwich? It was a day old and shouldn't be being sold with the fresh. And Nico had been hungry. He didn't deserve a cracked wrist from a baseball bat for stealing a sandwich.

Stifling a sigh, Nico let his eyes drift to the others in the room. Oz wasn't that bad he guessed. He would have to think on it. Kyle Westcott? That little piece of merde was dead meat. Nobody killed a Blade and lived to tell the tale.

* * *

Daria grinned and smacked the table her charts were on. "Oh, yeah – who's your Daddy?"

"Your father is Jake Morgendorfer," Kate said absently. "Mine is Don Eppes. Was there anyone else we should include?"

Daria had jumped up from her chair and began a touchdown dance.

"Agent Delgado?" Don asked with a raised eyebrow.

Turning around, she threw her arms around Don and kissed his cheek before she realized what she had done. "Oh, um, sir – I am…"

"A genius!" Kate yelled, tapping her screen. She had just spotted what had gotten Daria so excited. Glancing up at her husband, she beamed.

"Remember what Lieutenant Matthews said about the locks to the entrance hall? The tunnel the kids went through?"

Scott nodded. "That they were newly installed as a combination of state of the art hardware and computer technology. And since the flip is switched on the inside, nothing can quietly enter through there."

"Unless you have access to the programmer's original notes which include a backdoor for safety reasons, something not even the Museum's management would know about," Daria grinned.

"Good for them," Nate muttered. "Do we know how to reach the programmer?"

Kate shrugged. "We have to get him out of there alive."

Cold realization set in and Jeff burst out – "Is that one of the locks Alan designed for the security division?"

"Wake a sec -" Don asked in surprise. "An eighteen year old kid designed what is being promoted as one of the most secure industrial locks ever?"

"No," Kate said cheerfully, even as she accessed Alan's official files under his Tracy Industries account. "A sixteen year old kid designed the lock. It was installed at the Museum of Science six months ago – one of the first commercial applications – nearly a year after it was made available to the government, completing months of testing at Tracy Industries."

When Don and Nate both turned to look at the Tracys, Scott shrugged. "What? You never held a summer job when you were in high school?"

Nate leaned over at watched Daria make some more notes based on the data Kate was sending her. "What are we going to do?"

Daria grinned up at him. "You are going to distract them from the hallway. Scott can keep them on the phone while you make noise, yelling at a cop or something to clear the hallway as they should all be coming out soon. I'll go in the back, and see what can be done."

"You are not going in alone," Don said firmly, shrugging off his suit coat and grabbing a bullet proof vest and handing a non-compromised one to Daria. Glancing over at his daughter, he muttered, "Don't tell your mother."

When the two FBI agents headed out and Nate went to get into position, Kate chuckled even as she continued to send info to Daria. "Man, is Daddy going to owe me for this one."

* * *

Scott turned to Jeff even as Nate followed the FBI out of the Command Center.

"Dad," he whispered urgently. "Stay here."

"Scott," Jeff immediately responded. "Don't follow them. I can't lose you both."

"You won't," Scott began only for his cell phone to beep, indicating a text message. He glanced at it, his eyebrows raising before he turned around and looked at his wife on the main monitor.

"You wouldn't," Scott said, only to watch his wife's eyes give what his brothers had come to call "_Kate's death glare."_

"Fine," Scott responded, tossing his hands in the air. "But I am following Matthews. That way I will still be close by, alright?"

Kate gave a small nod as Scott left as well, before giving a satisfied smirk. Looking at Jeff, her eyes softened. "Dad, it's going to be alright. I just know it."

"I hope so, Kate," Jeff sighed as he sat down. "I hope so."

* * *

Nate took a deep breath. This had to sound convincing. He glanced around at the other members of law enforcement and cursed silently once more that he wasn't on his home turf. While Nate was a member of the Massachusetts State Police, and had authority here, he was used to dealing with departments from Western Mass vs. Eastern Mass where Boston was. Nate really didn't know anyone well enough to have a convincing, non-distracting argument with in order to distract the gunmen…

A phone ran behind him, making Nate almost jump. He frowned at the ring tone. Was that "Speed Racer"? Nate's eyes went wide when he saw Scott Tracy standing there, pulling his phone out.

"Tracy," Scott answered abruptly. "I was about to text you. Yes, the funds are ready. Fine."

Scott glared at the phone, as if it was responsible for Westcott hanging up on him.

"What the hell do you think you are doing!" Nate yelled.

"Answering my phone," Scott yelled back. He was at the end of his rope and he really didn't need this.

"You are not supposed to be here," Nate responded – again, at top volume.

"One," Scott said, "I was only a little further away. Two – I'm the pilot, remember. Yes, I am supposed to be here. Who isn't supposed to be here is my kid brother, so don't tell me I shouldn't be here, when Alan is hurt and being held by some freaking nut jobs!"

Both men were feeling frustrated and venting, causing the scene as Daria had asked.

And if anyone asked later, both would swear they planned it that way.

* * *

Daria looked at the notes on her phone once more, even as she removed the casing to enter override codes.

"Alan really designed this?" Don said in wonder.

"According to the U.S. Patent Office," Daria murmured. "Yes, yes he did."

"Seriously," Don sighed. "I would love getting that kid working for the Bureau."

"Scott would kill you," Daria bluntly responded.

"I didn't kill him for getting Katie pregnant," Don sullenly responded, thinking if anyone had the right to shoot Scott Tracy, it would be him.

"One," Daria answered, "Kate was a willing participant in that. Two, Scott did marry her, has been a good husband and father to your grandson. And three, Kate is a better shot than you."

"You sound like my wife," Don muttered, even as he pulled his service weapon.

"Having met Mrs. Eppes on many an occasion," Daria said even as she managed to get the lock open,

"I will take that as a compliment."

Don shook his head, even as he and Daria slid quietly into the service access tunnel.

* * *

Nico, Oz and Kyle had become distracted, as Daria had hoped, when Scott Tracy and Nate Matthews voices could be heard through the rather thick doors.

"Scott's pissed at someone," Alan muttered, even as he eased to his feet.

"Alan," Tomo whispered. "What are you doing?"

"Making a break while they are distracted," Alan said urgently, pulling with Tomo with his good arm towards the capsule. "If we can get in there, we can get out."

Tomo wasn't happy about it, but he doubted they would survive their ordeal if Kyle had anything to say about it, so he figured a slim chance was better than none.

"OK," Tomo nodded. "Let's go."

With Tomo's arm protectively around Alan's shoulder, his hand still pressing on Alan's wound to keep the bleeding at a minimum, the two began to sneak towards the display, praying that none of the gunmen would turn around.

That prayer went unanswered.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Nico yelled when the pair was less than ten feet from the access tunnel.

Tomo whirled around, placing himself between Alan and any danger that might come their way…

Like the bullet that departed from Nico's gun only to be stopped by Tomo's body.

* * *

_**A/N - OK, a quick update. Still very busy, Mom is still in the hospital. But before I head over there...**_

_**Alan - Wait - get back. You just shot my best friend!**_

_**CC - Alan, I have to go. **_

_**Alan - But...**_

_**CC - Here - the outline for the next story.**_

_**Alan (reads and then faints)**_

_**CC (shrugs) - Well, that makes him quiet for the moment. Laters.**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - no.**_

_**Reviews are welcome with a joyous heart and I hopefully answered all of you. Haters will be disposed of as the trash they are, for as we all know, there are those who can and do and the others who can't try their level best to hurt those who can.**_

_**Thanks for all the kind thoughts, Mama is now home with the Visting Nurses there nearly every day. Now to catch up on sleep.**_

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

Don followed carefully behind Daria. He may be a grandfather now but he was still a damn good FBI agent. However…Daria was probably a bit quicker on the draw. One thing that age was not holding privilege in.

_"What the hell do you think you are doing?"_

Daria froze while Don sucked in a breath. But no one was coming down the hall…suddenly a shot rang out followed by the sound of a body falling to the ground.

"Damn it," Daria hissed, continuing to move up the tunnel, hugging the walls and hoping she wasn't too late.

Nico glared at Tomo, he wanted to hurt him…hurt him bad. Aiming carefully, he squeezed the trigger, his glare turning to a smirk when Tomo fell to the ground.

From across the hall, Kyle couldn't recognize the words that tumbled from Tomo's mouth as he clutched at his bleeding right thigh, but from the wide-eyed look on Alan Tracy, it was obvious the blonde knew exactly what his friend was saying.

"Dude," Alan breathed out. "I never heard you use those kind of words before."

"Supposed to be a good example for you," Tomo grumbled.

Before Alan or Tomo could say anything else, Kyle had pulled out his own phone and grinned. "Hey! The money is in the account. Grab Tracy and bolt for the back door. I don't trust the cops not to have snipers ready to take us out."

Tomo pushed Alan against the wall and stayed in front of him. "Just go. Leave Alan here."

"Pretty boy is coming with us," Nico snarled.

"And I said no," Tomo snapped back.

When Nico raised his gun again, Tomo glared at him. "You get him over my dead body."

"That can be arranged," Oz drawled casually.

"Or his," Nico smiled coldly, adjusting his gun towards Alan. His cousins were dead. The boy who he felt responsible for was most likely dead. Why should this rich bastard get to live? When Tomo adjusted his body to protect Alan more completely – not easy as Alan was now officially the tallest Tracy son – Nico snapped. "Out of my way or you die first."

Tomo ignored Alan's whispered pleas to move, becoming an unmovable object in his quest to protect his little brother.

"FBI! Drop your weapons," Daria cried as she came out from behind the capsule.

Oz quickly lowered his while Kyle hesitated until Don came out, covering the teenager.

Hearing the weapons behind him drop to the floor, Nico began to scream in Spanish raising the weapon once more, ready to shoot Tomo in the head…

* * *

Nate and Scott stopped their argument when the sound of a gunshot could be heard through the heavy doors.

"Alan," Scott groaned, taking a step towards the door.

Nate grabbed the oldest Tracy son, pulling him back.

"You can't do that," Nate said firmly.

"Says who?"

"Says the fact the door is locked," Nate snapped. Pulling out his phone, he used the radio to contact the command post.

"Status on the backdoor?"

Kate's voice could be heard at that time. "Daria and Dad are in the tunnel. Scott – I can see what is happening. They shot Tomo Wattamee. But…oh shit."

"What?" Scott groaned.

"The gang member – what's his name?"

"Nico Herrera," Nate supplied.

"Yeah, he has the gun pointed at them again. Tomo is still trying to protect Alan. Damn it, I can't tell what is going down!"

* * *

"You don't want to do this, Herrera," Daria said calmly, barely noticing as her boss moved behind her, forcing Kyle and Oz to their knees, while kicking their weapons to the far side of the room.

"Yeah I do," Nico hissed, beginning to pull the trigger.

The sound of gunfire echoed in the exhibit hall and beyond, even as Don was unlocking the front door…

* * *

Scott's brown eyes went wide in panic. Another shot!

Pulling away from Nate, the oldest Tracy son flung himself at the door only to get smacked in the nose when it flung open.

"Damn it!" was snapped out from both sides of the door.

Pushing Scott slightly to the side even as he handed him a tissue for the bloody nose, Nate pulled the door open wider only to freeze at the sight in front of him.

Near the door, Westcott and LeGroux were both kneeling on the floor, their weapons nearby and their hands behind their heads in a submissive position. Don Eppes was covering both men and Nate shook off his stupor, kicking both guns further from the suspects before joining the FBI Chief in pointing his weapon at them. A quick nod from Don had Nate holstering his gun in order to cuff Kyle – the one who had shown the greatest tendency to violence of the two.

Across the hall, Alan Tracy and Tomo Wattamee both were crouched, eyes wide in shock and blood staining their clothing from their injuries. Nicolas Herrera was sprawled on the floor, unmoving.

Of course, the fact that a portion of his skull and most of his brains had been scattered by a bullet probably wasn't helping the matter.

Only a few feet from him, Daria Delgado let out a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. Looking at her weapon, she sighed before moving towards Don.

Meeting his agent half way across the room, Don took the gun from her. He knew the rules – an investigation was held whenever an agent shot anyone, and since someone had died, it would be more complicated. Don had no doubt Delgado would be cleared, but it was still annoying to a field agent. Oh well, maybe now was a good time to get her thinking about a more administrative role, much as he had been considering the young agent for.

Once she had surrendered her weapon, Daria turned back to the hostages, eager to get both young men out of there and into a hospital bed.

"Alan!" came a slightly nasally cry from the doorway, with Scott Tracy running in, eager to get to his little brother.

"Scott," Alan sighed, smiling at the sight of his brother. Gesturing to Tomo, he anxiously said, "He's hurt. It's the same area he hurt his leg last year in the car accident. We need to get him to the hospital."

"Me to the hospital?" Tomo squeaked. "You're the one who was beaten up and shot in the shoulder."

"Upper arm and fleshy area," Alan countered. "And a few slaps isn't getting beaten up."

"Bad enough," Scott said with a smile tucking the tissue he had been holding before he gently touched Alan's face. "Chill Sprout – we're taking you both to Mass General. Uncle Charlie is already on his way there, along with that other guy."

"Javi is still alive?" Alan asked, relieved. The gang member hadn't seemed like a bad guy and he had been shot only because he was trying to do the right thing.

With the scene apparently secure, one of the uniformed officers made the decision at that point to send in the paramedics. When one of the medics went to check on the dead gang leader instead of the hostages, Scott forgot the credo of rescue – worst first. Logically, Scott knew the man had to make sure Nico Herrera was dead and not severely injured.

But logic went out the window where his family was concerned.

"What the HELL do you think you are doing?" Scott hissed.

Across the room, Oz froze. He knew that voice. It was the field commander for International Rescue – the very people who had ruined his life.

"You?" Oz whispered before he snapped. "You son of a bitch!" he screamed, lunging for his fallen weapon, grabbing it and raising the gun right at Scott's head. "You miserable son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill you!"

Scott had turned slightly at the raised voice, pulling his injured little brother into his arms and sheltering Alan with his own body at this newest threat. He closed his eyes and held Alan close even as the sound of a gunshot once more echoed around the exhibit hall.

* * *

Jeff watched, intently, as Daria took down the gunman who had been threatening his son. He smiled a bit sadly as he saw how protective Tomo was of Alan. Tomo's father had been a good friend and an amazing employee, with his most sterling characteristic being his deep seeded loyalty, something Tomo had clearly inherited.

Feeling small hands touching either side of his legs, Jeff glanced down to see his two grandchildren clutching at his pant legs. Picking them both up in one fell swoop, Jeff settled them both in his lap before he glanced over his shoulder to see Marco give a small shrug.

"They said you needed hugs," Marco explained before frowning. "At least, I think that is what they said."

Jeff looked down at the toddlers now cuddling into his shirt and smiled as he kissed the top of their heads. "OK, you two," Jeff said firmly, seeing Elizabeth yawn slightly and Jason rub his eyes. "Nap time for both of you." Standing up with the two children wasn't easy and he gratefully accepted Marco's help in settling the kids back into the stroller for a nap.

Marco grinned back. "I got it, Mr. Tracy. Trust me – my family seems to keep having babies. After my kid brother was born, we only had a few years before my oldest cousin got married and had his son. It's a never ending circle of life."

Returning the grin, Jeff was glad to see the two babies curled up and immediately dropping off in the double stroller. Especially when one of the gunmen, who had seemed to be the calmest and least threatening member of the remaining hostage-takers, freaking out and preparing to go after Scott.

_"You? You son of a bitch! You miserable son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill you!"_

"Scotty!" Jeff gasped, his heart freezing in his chest at the sound of gunfire. Had his baby just been saved only for him to lose his firstborn?

* * *

Don whipped around when LeGroux had freaked out. The man had not been cuffed yet – Nate had used his, Don no longer carried any and Daria's were across the room with her – but one of the uniformed officers had begun to approach the former deputy sheriff with his…he just hadn't gotten there yet. Before anyone could do anything else, the man had screamed profanities and reclaimed his fallen weapon.

It was purely instinctive what Don did next. Raising his service weapon, he quickly aimed and fired. The position LeGroux had assumed in firing left his chest a perfect target.

Oscar LeGroux was dead before his body hit the ground, Don's bullet now lodged in his chest, stilling his heart forever.

Nate moved over to LeGroux, checking his pulse by pressing fingers to the man's throat. Looking around, the cop sighed.

"Two body bags, two stretchers and looks like Westcott gets to ride by himself. Luckily, he knows the routine."

It was a credit to Nathan Matthews that he utterly ignored the death glare Kyle was giving him.

Nate smiled as he moved over to where Scott Tracy was supervising his little brother's placement on a gurney. Gesturing to Don, Nate nodded. "Not sure if I could have got off a shot in time. Lucky for you, your father-in-law was able to protect you."

Scott glanced over to where Don Eppes still stood, his gun not being re-holstered until Kyle Westcott was escorted from the room by local officers. Sighing, Scott shook his head.

"Nah – he probably just feels if anyone has a right to shoot me, it's him. And he wants to reserve that right, if Kate ever lets him."

Nate started to laugh until he looked at Alan Tracy and Daria Delgado – and noticed that neither of them was amused.

Sighing, he began to follow the progress of the two gurneys, leaving the removal of the bodies to the supervision of members of the Boston Police Department. _"And Shana thinks my mother doesn't like her," _he thought in amusement.

* * *

Jeff waited, rocking the stroller back and forth, as the gurneys were pulled from the ambulance. He smiled at Tomo as the older boy was loaded into one ambulance before exchanging Alan's hand for the stroller's handlebar with Scott, walking beside the rolling gurney and climbing into a second ambulance with Alan.

"I'll meet you at the hospital," Scott said, even as he stopped to pull the now awake and fussing toddlers out. Daria happily took Jason in her arms and helped the one-year-old wave bye-bye before she began to tickle him when he started to fuss.

He had really wanted to play with Uncle Alan.

The now giggling baby smiled and began to give sloppy kisses to "Auny Dawwy". Don came up beside them, claiming his grandson.

"Don't worry, Champ," Don said with a small sigh. "Uncle Alan will be up and playing with you soon."

"So Alan Tracy will be alright?" A voice broke in, shattering the brief moment of peace.

They all turned to see Ana Nevada standing there, having once more cut through the lines and having her camera man filming everything.

"Isn't it true that this much of a response – local, state and federal authorities – would have never happened if one of the hostages hadn't been the youngest son of Jeff Tracy?" the reporter asked with a sneer. "Of course, innocent lives wouldn't have been endangered – nay, lives _lost," _she stressed as the body bags holding the earthly remains of two of the gunmen were brought out, "if Jeff Tracy hadn't failed in his fatherly duty to assure the safety of his son."

Nate, Scott and Don refused to answer the woman. Daria, however, figured she was soon to be tied down to a desk for the foreseeable future and might as well make the most of it.

"You want to tell me how on Earth Jeff Tracy was supposed to realize that some gun-toting lunatics would pull this stunt? The only people ultimately responsible for any loss of life were the aforementioned gun-toting lunatics – Not Mr. Tracy, not Alan, not anyone else."

Ana flipped her hair, sure that of the two of them, she looked better on camera. "What about them?" she snapped, pointing to the bodies now being loaded into a black van marked "Boston City Coroner".

Daria shrugged. "We identified ourselves as law enforcement, but they still tried to kill unarmed civilians. Let's see – gun-toting criminals or innocent citizens? My vote is for the innocents."

Ana took a step forward, even as Daria balled her first, part of her wishing she had put on her back-up piece. Before Daria could act on her righteous anger – and assuring herself additional time on desk duty, along with possible anger-management classes – Ana yelped in pain.

All of the group looked down when Ana did, seeing a furious eighteen-month-old winding up to kick the reporter in the knee once more. Luckily for Ana, Nate quickly scooped up the little girl.

"Bad Wady!" Elizabeth yelled, her tiny legs still moving rapidly in an attempt to land another blow.

Daria laughed. "Like mother, like daughter," she roared before nudging Don. "Emily Tracy broke this b-" she paused, seeing she had drawn Elizabeth's attention, quickly changing her words. "She broke this broadcaster's nose after the bank robbery, when ding-a-ling here had endangered Alan and John with her total lack of responsible journalism."

Looking back at Ana, Daria grinned. "Gonna try and press charges? Please, say yes. I want to sell the popcorn at that show. _Oh, your honor, but I was gravely injured when an eighteen-month-old girl kicked me with her Disney Princess sneakers!_"

Ana limped away, glancing over her shoulder as she growled. "I will get you – All of you."

"And your little dog, too!" Daria crowed. "Oh, wait – that's you." She grinned when she heard Ana's screech at that comment.

"Agent Delgado," Don said firmly. "That was over the top and completely unprofessional." Then he grinned. "Man, I hope we got it on tape."

Feeling his phone vibrate, Scott looked down. Seeing the text message from Kate, Scott glanced up at the outside security camera. Grinning, he nodded towards it.

Yup. They had it.

* * *

_**A/N -**_

_**Alan: CC is annoyed with a PM she got, asking if the horrible events of April 17th in Boston was why she chose to set the story in Boston. First off, no bomb was involved. Well, not in this story. Second - HOW long ago was this story started, not to mention CC has notes on this and other future stories, sometimes MONTHS before she starts a story. So no. The story is set in Boston because CC writes movieverse Thunderbirds and in that movie it says my school, Wharton's, in in Massachusetts. SO...**_

_**Kate: You do realize you are defending CC, don't you?**_

_**Alan: Eh. I lived to tell.**_

_**Kate: This time.**_

_**Alan: Every time. Except in some dream sequences.**_

_**Kate: Well, I hacked CC's computer. You want to see her notes on her next story?**_

_**Alan: Which next story? She has a couple, including some Thunderbirds one shots and a very odd Harry Potter crossover?**_

_**Kate: Which one? Harry Potter and the Muppets or Harry Potter and Castle.**_

_**Alan: Let's see those notes. OK, she is doing a third Harry and the Muppets for her husband for Father's Day, she is writing a second chapter of Harry Potter and Castle, she has a one shot which would now probably be a flash-back for this Thunderbirds series...**_

_**Kate: Well, I meant the next multi-chapter. Here - these are some notes.**_

_**Alan (reads before yelling): CC! No amount of cookies will save you now!**_

_**Kate (snickers): I think that is why she is refusing to be here. G'night folks!**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Dying of the Light**

_**Disclaimer - OK, it has been established that 1) I don't own Thunderbirds (or Numb3rs for that matter); 2) I have some awesome readers and 3) The Idjits aren't coming - they are here and know how to work a computer. I blame Dragon software, which, yes I own some, but no, I don't use. It has too much trouble with a New England accent.**_

_**Posted today as a Happy Birthday to Sam1! Love ya, Kiddo.**_

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Alan Tracy lay back against his pillow, watching the sun begin to set. He smiled slightly – this was one of the good things about coming from a family with money. Even your hospital rooms were comfortable. Not as comfortable as being in the infirmary on Tracy Island, where someone was always available to hold your hand or help keep you amused, but it would do in a pinch.

"They got you on the good stuff, buddy?" Don Eppes asked with a smile as he came into the room, Daria Delgado on his heel.

"Yep," Alan drawled before he looked serious. "Dad went to check on Tommy. Is Uncle Charlie ok?"

Don sat down on Alan's bed, brushing the teenager's blonde hair from his face. "You need a haircut," he murmured before he seemed to hear Alan's words.

"Yes, Charlie will be fine. It was a mild heart attack, no serious damage. The docs want to keep him for a couple of days but then he can go home. Edward is already on a plane eastbound with Amita. I think some of the doctors are drooling at the chance to get some one-on-one time with my nephew."

Alan chuckled at that. Sometimes he forgot that Edward was also C. Edward Eppes, Jr, one of the world's leading experts in cardio-thoracic surgeries. To him, Edward was Kate's cool cousin who had taught him how to play pool and always made sure Alan had plenty of fun at Eppes-Tracy gatherings.

"Alan, we need to talk," Don said gently.

"About what happened today?" Alan asked.

Shaking his head, Don looked to Daria for support. With a small sigh, she stepped forward. There were times she hated her job…

"Not really, Alan," Daria said. "It's more about what happened four years ago."

Alan went pale and began to shake. "What? No, no…"

"What the hell is going on here?" a new voice broke in, fury radiating from it.

Jeff Tracy stalked forward. "Don't you think this is the sort of thing a minor should have a parent here for?"

Don stood up and moved closer to Jeff. Shaking his head, he disagreed. "Jeff, Alan is now an adult. Since he turned eighteen, he lost the need for a parent or guardian to be present."

"Alan, I know this will be difficult," Daria began, pulling a chair up so she was next to Alan's bed. "But we felt it would be better if you talked to people you know. The Bureau has already launched a full investigation. It turned out the California Bureau of Investigation already had a limited case but – well, we were able to apply some heat. Holly Brook Academy had been stonewalling but now that the FBI has joined the investigation those walls are starting to crumble."

"If you want," Don said, "I can ask your father to leave. It's up to you."

Alan drew in an unsteady breath before he shook his head. "No. I want to tell this story as few times as possible."

Jeff glared at Don before moving over to the windows, leaning against the frame. He smiled and nodded at Alan who gave a weak smile in return.

Daria pulled out a small electronic device and placed it on a table that she then drew to be next to her and Alan. "I'm going to record this so we don't miss anything, ok?"

Alan muttered, "sure" before drawing his legs up, awkwardly trying to hold onto them. In response, Don sat back on the bed, pulling Alan's right hand into his. Glancing at Jeff, he worried about the father's reactions. This could cause severe emotional problems for Alan if the right support wasn't there for the boy.

"Special Agent Daria Delgado, conducting an interview with Alan Shepard Tracy, age eighteen, on the eighth of June at seventeen forty five at Massachusetts' General Hospital in regards to incidents that occurred when he was attending Holly Brook Academy, Valencia, California." Smiling gently at Alan, Daria nodded. "Could you please confirm your name and age?"

"Alan Tracy, eighteen," Alan softly answered, his nerves showing as he tugged at the border of his blanket.

"How old were you when you started at Holly Brook?"

"Thirteen," Alan said in a low voice before he caught Daria's eye. Seeing only caring support, he raised his voice a bit. "I had turned thirteen a few months earlier."

"Was this your first time away from home?" Daria asked, frowning when Alan shook his head before gesturing at the recorder.

"No," Alan said. "My family had moved to the Island – Tracy Island – when I was ten. Less than a year later, Dad decided I needed other kids. Grandma – my Grandma Tracy, that is – had suggested I move back to Bailey and attend school there. But Dad felt Grandma's health wasn't good enough to keep up with a kid who was barely eleven. So they compromised."

When Alan paused, Daria prompted him, "What was the compromise?"

"Hazelton Academy just outside of Kansas City," Alan said. "Grandma would head over to Kansas City on most weekends and Dad kept some apartments for traveling executives near the KC office. They're usually were free on weekends, so Grandma and I sometimes crashed in one. Sometimes Dad or one of the brothers made their way over, but not often."

"It was ok, though," Alan said quickly, eyeing his father. "Grandma and I were real close." He sighed. "I still miss her."

Shaking his head, Alan pushed back his morose thoughts. "Sorry. Anyhow, at almost the end of the year, about two weeks after I turned twelve, Gordon had his accident. That was – hard to deal with. But even before Gordy was out of the hospital, Dad had brought me home."

"Wait," Daria frowned. "You were sent back to Tracy Island prior to your brother – who, by all accounts, had almost died - was even released from the hospital?"

"There was a security incident," Jeff broke in seeing the remnants of pain and perceived rejection in Alan's eyes. "Someone tried to kidnap Alan."

"What?" burst out from Alan and Don at the same time.

Alan recovered the fastest. "I don't remember that."

Jeff was visibly upset as he explained. "An orderly had been bribed to slip a sedative in Alan's hot chocolate. He tried to get Alan out of the hospital when Allie fell asleep. Scott stopped him, then proceeded to take Alan back to the hotel suite we had. After informing me, we decided to take Alan back to the Island. Gordon was only supposed to be in the hospital another week or so, and I didn't want to worry about Alan." He looked at Don before he shrugged.

"There was a report filed with the local FBI at the time. You can pull the file."

"We'll do that," Daria said before smiling again at Alan.

"So," she continued. "You headed back to Tracy Island."

"Grandma met me there," Alan said with a smile. "We worked with Kyrano – his family was now on the Island as well – and the Hackenbackers – to set everything up for Gordon. The doctors said he wouldn't walk again, but we were determined that he would. I was home schooled that year but every chance I got, I worked with Gordon. I knew nothing would keep one of my big brothers down. Gordon would walk again, and more importantly to Gordy, he would swim again."

"And he did," Daria smiled back.

"The next year he won a gold medal in the Olympics," Alan said proudly before becoming sad. "Less than two weeks after that, Grandma died in her sleep. It was her heart. I never understood how such a big heart could just stop. But she was smiling. I like to think it was because she finally was seeing Grandpa again, so she wasn't scared."

"How soon after that did you go to Holly Brook?" Daria asked.

"Let's see - " Alan mused. "The Olympics were the last week of July and the first week of August. Grandma died ten days after the closing ceremonies. And classes at Holly Brook started the Monday before Labor Day, so…about two weeks later."

Seeing the thunder in Daria's eyes – not to mention the death glare she and Don were both giving Jeff – Alan spoke quickly.

"But this time, I didn't go alone. Part of Professor Hackenbacker's contract with my Dad is to pay for Fermat's education. Brains was always worried Fermat was too young to go away to school, but now he was ten. Same grade as me but…it was cool. I didn't mind the change. With Grandma gone and Gordon better, no one had much time for me anyhow."

The death glares had not improved and Jeff was beginning to feel terribly guilty. Had they been so dismissive of Alan then? What kind of father was he?

"What was your impression of Holly Brook?" Daria asked.

Alan smiled. "It was ok. Really different from Hazelton. I hadn't wanted to go back there because I wouldn't have Grandma close by. And Professor Hackenbacker had an old friend who was a history teacher at Holly Brook."

"Did you like it there or were you homesick?"

"Kinda both," Alan explained. "See – even when I went to Hazelton, I could call Grandma every night and I saw her almost every weekend. It wasn't easy for the rest of the family, what with time differences and everything. But Holly Brook was kinda cool in its own way. Lots of celebrity kids, so no one gave me funny looks about being Jeff Tracy's kid. I could be just Alan. I liked that."

"What professors or classes did you like?"

"Professor Keisha Reynolds – Brains' friend – was nice. She really made history come alive. And Professor David Cote taught Literature. I loved that class. The math class was great, our teacher was named…um, Oswald Kittner."

"Oswald?" Don said in surprise before smiling at Alan. "Former student of Charlie's – he was a nice kid."

"Yeah, he knew his stuff," Alan agreed.

"Any you didn't like?" Daria asked.

"Professor Lester Ovid," Alan said quietly. "I wasn't crazy about chemistry but it was a follow-up to biology so…"

"What happened to make you not like Professor Ovid?"

"He was always – touching – me," Alan said haltingly. "I'm from a family of huggers. I'm used to it. But he barely knew me and was always finding an excuse to touch me. It creeped me out."

"Did it ever go beyond touching?" Daria asked when Alan didn't continue.

Alan nodded before vocalizing his answer. "Yes. Professor Ovid kept keeping me after classes and no matter how much I would back up, he'd keep brushing up against me."

"Did you mention your concerns to anyone?" Daria asked, trying to keep her emotions in line. There was a reason she had hated working sex crimes.

Biting his lower lip, Alan was still for a minute before he spoke again.

"No one at the school. I mean – what was I supposed to say? I didn't get it! I know that makes me sound dumb -"

"Naïve, Alan," Don interrupted. "Not dumb. You were thirteen and didn't understand. Even if you'd been warned, if you never experienced a predator, you might not understand."

"Well," Alan sighed. "I didn't. But it was giving me the willies. I started trying to explain it to…"

When Alan trailed off, briefly looking at Jeff before falling silent, both FBI agents glanced at Jeff for an explanation.

"He tried telling us," Jeff said with a tremor in his voice. "But we brushed him off. Me, Scott, Virgil and Gordon…we all heard from him that he was uncomfortable and unhappy but since Alan couldn't give a particular reason, we all brushed him off as just being homesick. We told him to suck it up, that we didn't have time for him being so childish."

Don wanted to yell at Jeff but seeing the guilt eating at the man, he held his tongue. No one could be more furious at Jeff Tracy than the man was himself.

Daria had taken Alan's hand and smiled at him in support, encouraging him to continue.

"When did you become certain of any sexual intentions from Professor Ovid?"

Alan sucked in his breath before breathing out slowly. "October 28th."

"You remember the exact date?" Daria said in surprise.

"Professor Ovid had asked me to come in before class to help him set up for lab. I didn't tell him, but I didn't want to be alone with the man so I asked Fermat to come in early as well. Fermat wasn't there yet when I got to the class but the professor had seen me in the hallway, so I had no choice but to go in."

"What happened once you were in the classroom?"

"He asked me to go get some supplies in the closet," Alan said, slowly beginning to rock back and forth, his distress becoming evident. "I went in the closet and he came in behind me. He – he pressed himself up against me. I could feel…"

Alan looked like he wanted to throw up but he swallowed and continued.

"He – I could feel his erection. He grabbed my shoulders – so hard I realized later there were handprints there. He told me I was a tease. That I was too pretty. Then he moved his right hand from my shoulder and ran it down my chest before he started touching me…well, there."

"I'm sorry, Alan," Daria said with no small amount of sympathy. "You need to say where."

Swallowing once more, Alan nodded and said softly, "My groin, ok? Then he moved his hand up to the waistband of my pants…I was freaked out. I didn't know what to do and his left hand was still digging into my shoulder. Just then, I heard Fermat in the classroom. Professor Ovid pushed me slightly and whispered, "_Get rid of him_." As if."

"I went out to the classroom and made sure Fermat stayed there with us. The rest of the class started arriving within a few minutes. I was still freaked out and scared to death. I didn't think anyone would believe me. Everyone kept telling us what a respected teacher he was."

Alan leaned against the pillows. "We started doing our lab experiments. When I started my Bunsen burner, something seemed off, but I couldn't connect it. I was too busy trying not to freak out when Professor Ovid would come too close. His phone rang after a few minutes – teachers aren't supposed to keep their cell phones on any more than a student, but I suppose he saw himself as above other rules as well," Alan said bitterly.

"He went out to the hallway and I relaxed enough to look at the burner. That was when I saw the slight crack in it. It might have happened…Well, I was taking a box of the burners down when he came into the storage closet. I think I may have dropped the box a bit – probably enough that one of them cracked. Just my luck to have gotten it," Alan bit out.

"More lucky than you realize," Jeff said quietly.

When everyone else turned to look at him, Jeff gave a bittersweet smile. "Alan has seen people using Bunsen burners for most of his life and has also gotten lectures from Brains on checking for cracks every time. The Insurance Investigator ran it past most of Alan's classmates from that day and most of them admitted they couldn't see the damage. Alan did and was able to give his classmates the warning that got them out before the lab blew up."

Alan shrugged. "Didn't stop everyone from giving me hell about – for a long time," he glared at his father.

Jeff looked like he wanted to continue the discussion but Daria held up a hand, redirecting the conversation back to the main topic.

"Did Professor Ovid approach you again?"

"No," Alan said. "But I had some burns, since I was the last one out, so they kept me in the infirmary. The day I was released – two days later – was the day Dad came to pick me up."

"Professor Ovid had already spoken with me by the time I got Alan," Jeff said tightly. "He asked me not to think too badly of Alan and his "mistake". That is was obvious Alan simply hadn't been paying attention."

"Is that why you didn't tell your father or brothers?" Daria asked.

Alan nodded. "I tried a couple of times. I even tried to tell Fermat. No one would listen. Kyrano kinda did."

"How so?" Don asked, intrigued. He had always found the Asian man fascinating and knew the man adored his employer's son, loving him like his own child, even before Alan started dating Tin-Tin.

"He said he knew something bad had happened and if I ever wanted to talk about it, he would be there. I didn't tell him but…"

"But?" Daria prompted, when Alan failed to continue.

Alan looked abashed. "He – he held me when I started to cry. When I would have nightmares about it, I would sneak out of the house and head down to the Kyranos. They found me more than one morning on the couch."

Jeff closed his eyes in pain, recalling how annoyed he would get when Alan would disappear from the house before anyone else was awake only to show up with Onaha when the woman would be making breakfast. Kyrano would simply say Alan was helping him with chores, so Jeff had let it slide, relieved that Alan was trying to make up for all the trouble he had caused.

"What will happen now?" Alan asked in the silence.

"As I said, the California Bureau of Investigation already had a case going but any progress was being held up by the school. With the FBI leaning on them, we got them to drop the stonewalling. A search warrant went through and Professor Ovid's on campus housing and office were examined."

"Did you find any evidence or will it just be my word?" Alan asked, nervous.

Daria bit her lip before answering. "Alan, it's an on-going investigation. I can't discuss it but I can tell you we have enough to arrest him. It should be happening now."

"So I wasn't the only one?"

Shaking her head, Daria looked angry. "No, you weren't. Alan, he was a teacher there for fifteen years. Ovid stalked multiple boys over that time – always young, blonde and blue-eyed."

Jeff felt sick, recalling another sexual predator with that preference, another monster that had gotten too close to his baby.

Alan blinked then yawned. "Sorry – the pain meds are really kicking in."

Don got up from near the bed, leaning over and brushing back Alan's hair again. "We need to go. I don't want my sister-in-law freaking out too badly. Amita can be scary."

Jeff walked the pair to the door, repeatedly looking back at Alan who had fallen asleep.

"What aren't you telling us?" the worried father said at the doorway.

Daria and Don looked at each other before Daria answered in a low voice. "Ovid kept trophies, lots of pictures and a detailed journal on his computer. He listed Alan as "the one that got away". It frustrated him when he couldn't find him even though he was sure Alan was now in another school. Once he found out that Alan was at Wharton's, he tried to get access. Luckily for Alan, a Professor Zhu at his school was in charge of visiting professors and he had known Ovid from graduate school. And frankly, the two professors couldn't stand each other. But that didn't stop Ovid from stalking Alan remotely. Any article, any media blip…if Alan was mentioned, Ovid had it. He had an article about Alan being accepted at Harvard – and plans to be in Boston come next fall."

Jeff once more looked as if he would become ill before his face became like stone. "Lock him up. Put that bastard away. Because if you don't -" He looked at Don with steely resolve. "If he even comes within a hundred miles of Alan, it will be the last thing he does."

"Mr. Tracy," Daria said softly. "Threatening Ovid won't help anything."

Jeff just shook his head and closed the door to Alan's room, leaving the two agents in the hall.

"Something you should know about my dad," Scott's voice said as he came up behind them, pushing the stroller with the two once-more sleeping toddlers. "When it comes to his family? Dad doesn't make threats – he makes promises. That monster comes near Allie again? May God have mercy on him – because the Tracys won't. And I can assure you, you would never find a body."

Scott moved past them, entering his brother's room while Daria picked her jaw up off the ground before turning to her boss.

"Did you hear that? Seriously?"

Thinking of the space station his daughter was now on, Don just smirked. He had a good idea just what the Tracys would do to the man.

Or at least his body.

* * *

Daria stood in the hallway, eyeing both the room that held Professor Charles Eppes and the one that held Alan Tracy. Tomo Wattamee was still in recovery – some kind of problem with his blood pressure being too low – but his mother had assured her that her son was expected to recover nicely, although the Ambassador had had a strange smirk on her face when she said that Tomo would have to cancel a planned trip to Japan.

The FBI agent didn't even try to wonder what that was about.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. Glancing at the alert, Daria grinned.

"Eppsie!"

_"Thanks for the assist," _Kate's voice came across. _"Dad is staying in Boston at least overnight. Jack Hotchner's BAU team is heading back from a case in Tewksbury, just up the highway. He's agreed to give you a lift to New York."_

"Sounds good," Daria said cheerfully, now that she knew that while she might miss dinner, she would definitely be home in time to put her baby to bed.

Speaking of babies...

"Kate," Daria said with solemnity. "Has anyone told you about some of the evidence against Ovid yet?"

_"I know what the FBI has logged," _Kate said, anger coloring her voice. _"Sixteen dvds of his victims, one empty case with Alan's name and picture; mementos from each boy and an encrypted journal. Casey called me – I helped them break the encryption. I had to stop reading it in order to vomit."_

Kate struggled with her fury before she asked, _"What got the CBI involved anyhoo?"_

Daria sighed. "Thirteen year old boy killed himself while home for Spring Break. Mom found him hanging in the basement. There were signs he had been cutting himself. He had a journal...And he named names."

_"So why wasn't the scumbag arrested already?" _

Sighing once more, Daria snapped. "The good professor claimed – and the school backed him up – that the boy, named Billy, had discovered he was gay and had made clumsy advances on his dismayed Professor Ovid. Of course, the professor went to the headmaster once the boys had left for their break. Just a case of he said, he said."

The whole time they had been talking, Daria had heard Kate furiously typing away. A slight giggle could be heard as the typing stopped, making Daria highly suspicious.

"OK, Eppsie – what did you do?"

_"Do you know why the family hasn't been pushing the case? Not my family, the dead boy's?"_

"No."

_"Billy was born William Francis Delaney, as in the grandson of Frank Delaney."_

Daria went completely white. "Big Frank Delaney? As in the head of the Irish Mob in New York?"

_"As in the mobster who made the mistake of killing his daughter-in-law's brother-in-law. Her sister went into witness protection and "happened" to take her nephew with her when she went. His son and daughter-in-law were killed in a plane crash the following year but no one ever knew what happened to Little Frankie."_

"Mom will need to be re-located," Daria mused.

_"She and hubby number two, along with her daughters from that marriage, already have been. But don't you think Delaney should know his grandson's final resting place?"_

"Kate, you do that and you just put a hit out on Ovid."

_"So someone in the prison system is owed a favor by a New York mob boss or the Tracys – well, my family has no problem with getting our hands dirty in order to complete a necessary task."_

Thinking of her own little boy, as well as the traumatized boy just down the hall, Daria shook her head. Like her mother-in-law was fond of saying – "God helps those who help themselves." And God help a monster like Ovid when vengeful families would come calling.

"We never had this conversation."

_"What conversation? I just called to see if you wanted to meet up for lunch in, oh, three weeks. I have some meetings scheduled for Tracy Enterprises and would love to have you stop by for lunch. Bring your appetite, we like to have Trenia's deliver."_

Daria tried not to drool, thinking of the five star meals...

"Agent Delgado?" a voice came from down the hall.

"Yes?" Daria turned in annoyance, with a bit of a snap before she forced her jaw not to drop.

_"And there is your hunky limo driver," _Kate crowed. _"Just remember – you are a happily married woman. If it makes it easier, he's married as well, to a scarily brilliant woman. Call me later, ok Dorf? And Dorf – thanks again for the assist. I owe you."_

Daria cheerfully followed Jack Hotchner from the hospital, quizzing him about the BAU, a department she had always been interested in. Life was good. Scumbags were dead or in jail, kids were safe and she had a ride home. Plus, Eppsie owed her – and that was something that rarely happened.

* * *

_**A/N - Ovid's fate will be revealed...when I get mad enough about something. Last chapter coming soon.**_


	16. Epilogue

**White Out**

_**Disaclaimer - For the last time, don't own Thunderbirds, Numb3rs and still making payments on an eight-year-old car.**_

* * *

**Epilogue**

Headmaster Phillip Bean looked over the gathered friends and family of the latest graduates of Wharton's Academy for Boys and gave a gentle smile, one designed to comfort and assure worried parents – and lure potential donors. After the black eyes the school had received, twice in two years, and both because of former student Kyle Westcott, moments like this were ones to savor.

And milk for all they were worth.

"The next student speaker," Bean explained, now that they had heard from the Valedictorian, Fermat Hackenbacker, "would have spoken today due to his place as Student Body President. But he is also the Student Elected Speaker, chosen by his classmates in an overwhelming majority."

OK, so it was by the biggest majority ever.

Bean nodded to one of the young men on stage, wishing once more that Jeff Tracy would have allowed Alan to do publicity for the school. With his good looks, athletic build, noble bearing and clever mind, Alan was what the school considered "ideal". Consider it how you may, but the camera would have loved Alan.

"So without further ado, may I introduce the Student Body President and Class Elected Speaker, Alan Shepard Tracy."

Enthusiastic applause greeted Alan's approach to the podium. Personally, Alan was just glad that Sarah and Virgil had approved removing the sling so he didn't have to wear it for graduation. His bullet wound still pulled but it was manageable. Looking out at the audience, he smiled at his gathered family.

There was his Dad, smiling proudly. They still had to talk about what had happened at his old school – Alan was just glad the FBI was able to keep his name out of the papers, at least in regards to that. He had heard that the monster responsible was in prison and with the evidence found at his home they had enough actual victims that Alan's testimony could be considered only prejudicial.

Jeff had wanted to talk about it, but between an emergency with a merger in Japan and a volcano in Italy, the Tracy Patriarch had been a bit busy, just barely managing to get back to Massachusetts in time for his youngest son's graduation. Frankly, Alan was relieved. But soon they would be heading back to Tracy Island and Alan dreaded the unavoidable "talk" that would come about.

On one side of Jeff was Don Eppes, his wife Robin and Amita Eppes. Both women gave him thumbs' ups while Don gave a nod of approval. Of the three, Alan had only gotten to speak briefly with Amita as she had helped Charlie Eppes with his outfit, the woman fussing as she muttered "_how did you do this before you married me"_. Alan chuckled when Charlie had mouthed over her bent head _"my parents". _

Next to the Eppes were Tomo, still walking with crutches and his girlfriend. While Tommy had smiled and clapped loudly when Alan was called up, Gina's smile failed to meet her eyes and her applause was uninspiring to say the least. The dirty looks she had been giving Alan since after the shooting was unsettling. As if it was his fault Tommy couldn't travel to Japan with her! Alan wanted his honorary big brother to be happy, but unlike the women who had married his three oldest brothers, Alan just knew that this woman was not the one who would make Tomo happy. How to tell him that was not something that came easily but maybe when he went to visit Tommy in New York this summer he could find an opening.

Speaking of the women who had made his brothers happy, Alan grinned and winked at one of them. Sarah Jane Woodbury had been part of Alan's life since he was a baby but now seeing her, sitting next to Virgil, his big brother proudly patting Sarah's belly as if to make his unborn child clap as well, Alan's smile grew. He really couldn't wait to get another nephew – it was the next best thing until he and Tin-Tin had kids of their own.

As long he didn't have to deliver any more Baby Tracys.

But the woman who made Alan happy was also sitting there. Tin-Tin beamed up at him, the promise ring he had given her for her birthday after she had arrived with Brains two days ago, catching the light when she gave him a tiny wave. Alan gave a small sigh. That was what he wanted for Tomo – and Gordon.

Speaking of his red-headed fiend of a sibling, Gordon had compromised on his agreement to behave by staying as far as possible from Tomo. Seated on the other side of Tin-Tin, Gordon was clapping and whistling, refusing to hush no matter how much Alan's girlfriend nudged him. It took the twin glares from Jeff Tracy and Don Eppes to make the copper top hush.

Alan looked over the crowd, grinning at his friends and classmates, he took a deep breath and just hoped not to make too big a fool of himself. He had looked at a variety of speeches and had to say, had been most inspired by the clip Kate had sent him from Daria Delgado's graduation – the FBI agent was still trying to figure out where the hell Kate had gotten it from.

"Mark Twain once said – Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest. Doing the right thing isn't always the easy thing. I guess if it was, everyone would do it, wouldn't they?"

"The graduates of a school like Wharton's are not like a typical graduating class. Many of us come from wealth and privilege. Even those who do not, are gifted – either academically or athletically, and sometimes both. We will be in a position as years go by to influence society. Regardless of if it is a small town or the global stage, what many of us do will affect those who fall within our sphere of influence. Make these effects positive. It is better to have been a big fish in a small pond than to take the easy way and making other see it as "acceptable". Taking drugs, taking advantage or taking the easy way out – they all start with taking. We have a responsibility to give back. Teach some kids to play ball, help find solutions for global energy, become a doctor – it doesn't matter how. Just give from your heart and you will make the world a better place."

"My challenge to you is this – become a person that when one of your classmates hears another speak of you, we will proudly say "I knew him when".

"Becoming wealthy or famous or powerful – it is the goal of so many in this world, they forget to live. In the words of the Bard - "Nothing is so common as the wish to be remarkable". But you can be remarkable to the world and ignoble to your family. Don't be. Be the son, the father, the brother, the husband, the friend – be the man that will be remembered in hearts and cherished forever. Making the history books or having your name on a building is cool, I guess. But books are rewritten and parts are dropped. Buildings can fall to the forces of nature – or hostile takeovers." Alan got a few chuckles from the business men in the crowd on that one. "Be the man I know each of you have the potential to be. Good luck graduates. It's a big world out there and it's time for each of us to prove our mettle."

Alan smiled once more and turned to leave the podium, when Headmaster Bean joined him once more. "I will ask Alan to stay here as I have another award to present. If our guests glanced at the program, you can see that Alan here won two of the top awards – Student Athlete and Most Popular. Alan brushes them off, saying that they are – how did you phrase it? Oh yes, cool."

Laughter greeted that as Alan ducked his head and blushed. Bean chuckled and patted Alan's shoulder.

"Alan felt those awards were not as important, compared to those who won academic awards. I would like to point out that Alan also won the Fine Arts Award, with many of his teachers saying his writing is something that, if he continues with his current promise, is something we will be reading in the years to come. Alan also tied for the vocational studies award, with his work in engineering coming to be regarded as what we would not be seeing from a high school senior, but rather as something a college graduate with years of experience, should be presenting. Given his background, we shouldn't be surprised by anything Alan accomplishes, but yet he has continually surprised us in so many ways."

"But this award that needs to be presented is a reflection that the staff knows that Alan will be as remarkable as his promise shows. We once called it the Most Likely to Succeed, but since we want all of our students to succeed, we chose to call this the Wharton Torch Award – the light which will lead our graduates on. So may I present, Alan Tracy, this year's winner. May your light shine on."

"Um, thanks headmaster," Alan blushed as he took the plaque, smiling and waving to the crowd which was once more clapping. He used the noise to whisper, "I don't have to make another speech, do I?"

Bean chuckled. "No – but let me wish you all the success in the world, Mr. Tracy. You may have gotten off on a rocky start, but you have exceeded all our expectations."

Alan grinned. "And may I make a wish for you headmaster – which is that you never get another student like me." At Bean's look of confusion, Alan chuckled. "OK, make that another student like me when I first got here. I'll take this award to mean you are good with me these days."

Shaking his head, the headmaster grinned as well.

* * *

Soon, Alan was surrounded by family, taking picture after picture. He had been kissed and hugged so much, he felt more like one of the babies – something that if he had said aloud, someone would have pointed out that he was still their baby.

Glancing at Gordon, standing to the side, talking with Charlie and Amita Eppes, Alan sighed when he realized that his brother was still shooting glares at Tomo. Then again, Gina was standing slightly behind Tomo and glaring at Alan.

He just couldn't win.

"So, Alan," Tomo was saying. "Your father and my mother were talking, and since I won't be heading to Japan, I will be starting my internship early. And I understand you will be working on a project this summer, so...think we can catch a game or three?"

"What kind of game?" Don asked as he approached the pair.

"Baseball," Alan said. "I like to catch a couple of the Red Sox, Yankee games per year. Anything to see the Yankees go down, down, down."

"Not another baseball fanatic," Robin Eppes groaned.

Jeff laughed. "No – he just dislikes the Yankees. And no other group of fans dislikes them as much as the Red Sox. Jeannie Bates had too big an influence on him. Her father was a rabid Mets fan."

"What has being a Red Sox fan have to do with being influenced by a Mets fan?" Gina asked with pseudo interest.

Don laughed. "Because you can substitute almost any team for the first part of this phrase: I support two teams – the Red Sox and whoever beats the Yankees."

Alan was accepting a hug from Robin at that moment as she rolled her eyes once more. The teen just grinned and gave her a small kiss on the cheek, assuring her, "You look great, Aunt Robin." Robin and Don had insisted that their non-son-in-law Tracys start calling them aunt and uncle, since they were already doing that with Charlie and Amita.

"Please," Robin shook her head. "How can you say that when you have two such lovely ladies to compare me with?" (Gina was annoyed to realize Robin was gesturing to Tin-Tin and Sarah.) "Not with these wrinkles."

Alan just kissed her cheek again and said, "Now, while seeking inspiration for my speech, I found another Twain quote that fits – _Wrinkles should merely indicates where smiles have been."_ I repeat, you look lovely."

"And now I see how Scott wooed Katie so quickly," Charlie murmured as he joined the group.

"Tomo," Gina interrupted. "You may not be joining me, but I do still need to get to the airport. And you are my ride, aren't you?"

Tomo rolled his eyes before reaching out to clasp Alan's shoulder. "I'll see you in New York in a few weeks, Ototo."

As Tomo walked away, he held in a sigh at the glare Gordon Tracy had given him at the nickname. Gordon had behaved himself but this was still annoying. Tomo had been shot trying to protect Alan – what, did he have to die in order for the red-head to lay off?

Waving once more at Alan, Tomo smiled. Tomorrow was another day, wasn't it Scarlett? He'd worry about it then.

* * *

Emily was running Command and Control, what with more than half of IR at Alan's graduation and Kate up on Five – it was the only way this would work.

"We're on our way back, Base," John's voice came over clearly. "Everything good at home?"

Glancing at the two sleeping babies in the playpen, Emily smiled. "Yes. And I have been assured that the, um, documentary will be ready for viewing once you get here."

"Sounds good, Base," Scott said. He was glad that they had been able to help, and it proved they could be adaptable as their growing families needed them to be.

Once they were sure the men were occupied with the return flight, Kate opened a channel that would keep them out of it. "OK, Emily – spill. What has had you so cranky lately?" Kate stilled and quickly asked, "Are you preggers?"

Emily held back tears. "No. And the chances of us having another baby are close to zilch."

"Well, there are all kinds of fertility experts -" Kate began only to have Emily interrupt.

"No, John is the one saying no more," Emily explained. At Kate's curious look, she continued.

"I don't want the rest of the family to know – Not until John and I can talk about it some more. But you know how I had some problems when Elizabeth was born?"

Kate nodded. She hadn't been there, but Sarah had been badly shaken by the experience, with Emily's blood pressure shooting up and the baby's fetal heartbeat becoming erratic, forcing the young woman to perform an emergency c-section.

"Turns out there is some family history of pregnancy induced cardiomyopathy. And of course, Susan Haas never told me."

Kate flinched at how coldly Emily referred to her own mother. Then again, the woman really didn't deserve the title.

"At least three top experts in the field have told me I was lucky to have Elizabeth and that John and I should not consider more children. And if I do, I will have to spend the entire pregnancy being very carefully monitored."

"What does John say?" Kate asked.

"That he needs me more than he needs another child," Emily said. "But as much as he loves Elizabeth, I see him with Jason. He would love another baby – maybe a son."

Shaking her head, Emily looked up at Kate. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Like what?" Kate said, forcing her tone to become cheerful.

"Did you father mention where Kyle Westcott was shipped off to? I hope it is a more secure location. Since he violated parole, I know he was immediately incarcerated, but Dad just assured us it was taken care of. But I don't like him being in the same state as Alan."

"He isn't," Kate said, her cheer less forced now. "He's been sent off to Joliet."

Emily was stunned for a moment. The former maximum security prison had been closed in 2002 only to reopen years later as a "tiered" prison. A portion of it was a Supermax prison, but even in the "step-down" you had to have broken some serious laws or be considered a grievous threat to be sent to that particular facility.

"Don't you have to at least be a murderer to go there?" Emily asked before looking sad. "The second gang member – the one that tried to help. He didn't make it, did he?"

Kate shook her head. "Dad said no. He didn't have any family left, so he was cremated and placed with his father."

Emily looked like she wanted to say something else but two sounds distracted her – Jason beginning to wake and Thunderbird One arriving – the boys having only taken the one bird. "We'll talk later," Emily said.

"I'll be down in a few days," Kate said. "We'll talk then."

Emily turned off the communications, noting that Thunderbird One was coming in for a final approach even as she went to pick up Jason. Cuddling the one-year-old against her shoulder, her heart ached for the additional babies she longed to have.

Soon the two babies were being held, and an impromptu movie night of sorts was being held, the video of Alan's graduation being watched and exclaimed over with as much delight as if they had been there live. Now was not the time for sorrow or grief – life was too short for that. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

In a hospital in Omaha, a young man looked sadly out a window, watching a bird in a tree outside. Even a bird had a family, he thought with a sense of profound loss. He ignored the door opening until a familiar voice spoke up.

Daria Delgado stood next to the bed Javi was sitting on. "Witness Protection will be picking you up today, Javier."

Javi finally turned from the window. "Was the information I gave on the Blades that useful?"

"The Blades was a gang that believed in networking," Daria said with a smirk. "The intel you gave us has crippled half a dozen criminal enterprises. That has earned you one official fresh start. As of next month, you will be living somewhere west of the Rockies – not sure just where – and you will be enrolled in some kind of educational or vocational program – not sure what. I wish I could tell you to keep in touch, but it's against the rules of the program. So just promise me that you will take advantage of your second chance – not everyone gets one."

Thinking of Nico, of so many other young men he had known growing up who were all dead now, Javi nodded sadly. When he had discovered that Nico was to be buried in a pauper's grave, no real marker or anything, he asked that the gang leader be interned with his own parents. The cremated body actually had given more credence to his own "death" so the government had been happy to comply.

Once Agent Delgado had left, Javi sighed and picked up a book someone had left behind. It was just a bit of a distraction, but it often helped. Fingering the business card he was using as a bookmark, Javi glanced at the card for Doctor Charles Eppes of Cal-Sci – and tried to ignore the trace of blood that tinged the edge of the card. It had been too close...

Setting down the book, Javi sighed. He wondered where he would go. He wondered what he would do. He wondered...he wondered what his name would be.

Closing his eyes, Javi drifted off to sleep. He would worry about that tomorrow. For now, he was just too tired...

* * *

In Illinois, Kyle Westcott leaned against the wall, seated on a low bench at the edge of the exercise yard. Looking up, he saw a small plane, probably a private jet, streaking across the sky. For a moment, he thought of Alan Tracy and wondered if it could be him...Nah. Daddy was probably still letting the little prince party in style.

"Someday," Kyle muttered. "Someday I'll get you, Tracy."

"Words to live by," a voice said softly, sitting down beside Kyle. Jack Mitchell smiled at Kyle, patting his arm. "You broke me out of this place once, Kyle. We'll figure something out – and together, we will get back at the Tracys once and for all."

"You sure?" Kyle asked, his youth and desperation showing for a moment with the only person he actually trusted.

"Have I ever let you down, little brother?" Jack said, patting Kyle's shoulder before glaring at one of the other inmates. No one knew of their relationship – but everyone knew the new kid was under Mitchell's protection. Nobody was going to hurt his kid brother again. Kyle may have been a half-brother – same mother, different fathers – but he was the only person in the world Mitchell actually loved and he knew Kyle felt the same way. Together, they would get through this.

They would think on it tomorrow.

* * *

High above the Midwestern skies, Alan sighed. He knew they had to go straight home – it was lucky that the simple rescue could be handled by just two Tracys and the locals. Vesuvius hadn't had a big blow-out in years and they just needed some help with coordinating the efforts. John and Scott should already be home by now. Leaning back, Alan smiled as he listened to his family talk. Brains and Fermat were flying the jet, both excited that they were heading back up to Five together and were more than happy to give the Tracys some alone time.

Tin-Tin leaned against Alan, smiling up at her boyfriend even as he closed his eyes, leaning back into the comfortable seat. Alan was never more at peace then when he was surrounded by family. To Gordon's annoyance, the youngest Tracy son felt he was leaving one brother behind. Alan would really have to talk to Gordon about that...Tomo was his family as much as Gordon and he couldn't bear it if he lost any of his family.

Alan opened his eyes briefly, ready to say something to his girlfriend when he felt a full body shudder rattle through him.

"Son?"

Alan focused, seeing Jeff – hell, his whole family present – looking at him in concern. "I'm ok, Dad. Just – what did Grandma call it? A goose passing my grave?"

Jeff reached over and squeezed his son's hand. He didn't tell his youngest that Ruth Tracy had only said that when she had felt something ominous was on the horizon. Alan was just probably frazzled over all that had happened recently and the talk they still had to have about what happened at his old school.

Well, they would worry about that tomorrow. Today was for the living.

And life was good.

~fin~

* * *

_**A/N - So...this journey is at an end. Need to get some things off my plate, need to work on a couple of other items...need to get some sleep. **_

_**Thanks for the support. I was upset to realize I had raised some disturbing memories for a few of my readers in the last chapter. For that I am sorry, as I have some of the best readers in fan fiction. But I have worked with abuse survivors (I refuse to call them victims, because they are some of the most amazing people I know) since I was twenty-one and a friend of mine was beaten, raped and left to die. She was only eighteen and spent more than two years in a vegatative state before her father died, allowing her brother to let her go, something her father never could. She officially died on her twenty first birthday. Her assailant spent less than six years in prison, before killing himself and three others in a drunk driving incident. I am a full believer in karma, and Alan's tormenter will definately pay for his sins. No, you have not heard the last of this issue. **_

_**For those who have reviewed, pm'd and generally encouraged me, thank you. This work is my stress relief and what I need to get me through some very dark days. For the cows who do not support writers - epsecially those who thought a child being abused was "Funny" - you need therapy. If you have the guts, ID yourself, preferably to a good shrink. You will continued to be deleted, so why are you bothering? It doesn't bother me any more as I have decided you are probably off your psych drugs.**_

_**I am taking some time off. Will be back in a few weeks, so take care. Love to all. - CC**_


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